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queers-gambit · 11 months

Text

If Speaking is Silver, Then Listening is Gold

a Turkish proverb

prompt: ( requested ) you require a bit of reprieve after the week you had, and Tommy's a gentleman.

pairing: Tommy Shelby x hard of hearing female!reader

fandom masterlist: Peaky Blinders

word count: 4.4k+

note: you hit me in the chest with this request. as someone who is hard of hearing (HoH) and progressively losing what they have left, this got personal.

warnings: author projects, mild angst, hurt and comfort, specified frustration, working with customers SUCK, mild violence, Tommy's a little OC 'cause he doesn't know what to do with emotion!

"Excuse me! God, the service here is terrible! Aren't you listening to me, barmaid!?" The woman with polished finger nails slammed her manicured hand to the bartop aggressively, glaring at you as if you had backhanded her mother.

The sudden slap made you jump slightly, turning your head to acknowledge her before deflecting, "In a moment, ma'am, I'm trying to listen to this man's order."

"I've been trying to get your attention for 10 minutes now!" She argued, the noise of the bar dialed up as the night droned on and the patrons drank more.

"And I'm busy assisting other customers, I'll get to you when it's your turn," you reminded her, blinking at the man in front of you. "I'm so sorry, sir, I, uh, what were you saying?"

He sighed, "You don't remember? Or didn't hear me?"

"I couldn't hear you over the woman yelling at me," you snipped, perking your brows. "Would you like to order or should I move onto another customer?"

He scoffed, "Just get me a fucking bourbon."

"One fucking bourbon comin' at'cha," you rolled your eyes as you turned from the people to grab the bottles of liquor lined up behind you. You poured the man his drink, set it in front of him, and pocketed the bill he slapped in front of you - not offering change as you instantly looked to another customer. He grumbled with displeasure, but you were asking the next person, "What can I get you?"

"Uh, no, I'm next, I've been waiting long enough," the woman with polished fingernails insisted, literally pushing the customer out of her way.

You sighed, "Know what? All right, fine, what can I get you, ma'am?"

At that moment, the doors swung open and a new wave of drunkards stumbled in; the bar roaring to greet the newcomers as the woman ordered her posh drink that had no business being ordered in The Garrison.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You asked, staring at her mouth in the hopes of reading her lips. She repeated her order, but her tacky lipstick made her lips stick - making it hard to read. "What? I'm sorry, ma'am, it's loud, you're gonna have to speak up."

"Are you fucking with me right now!?" She screeched, making your eyes widen. "You're the fucking deaf - you can't hear a simple order!?"

"I only asked you to repeat yourself," You defended.

"You asked me three times!" She raged.

"So tell me a fourth and shut the fuck up!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Harry stepped in, hand to your shoulder when the woman looked ready to launch over the bar, "I got this. I'll man the bar, you go on - there's some tables that need bussing."

You sighed and stepped back, nodding, "Sure, Harry."

You hated when he did this. Instead of defending you and your inability to hear - something you have no control over - he would always just push you aside and send you to do other chores. It wouldn't cost anything to tell the customers to calm down, it was loud in the pub and you had a hard time hearing as is - but nope! The customer was always right, or whatever bullshit he would remind you.

You were constantly accosted at work for your difficulty hearing clearly. It wasn't that you couldn't hear at all, it was just difficult! Sometimes, you could hear bits of their sentence and just inference whatever words you missed, but that wasn't an exact science. You mostly depended on reading people's lips, always hating asking anyone to repeat themselves; but at work, it wasn't always possible. The people you interacted with seemingly took personal offense that you had a hard time hearing, and each of them made their displeasure known. Again, a great time for Harry to defend you, but the older man didn't like rocking the boat.

You didn't necessarily blame him, knowing the Peaky Blinders kept a close eye on the pub and would probably reprimand (cut) Harry for discipling customers instead of firing you. So, you kept quiet about your displeasure over your treatment because you needed this job - you never wanted to give reason or thought that you were difficult. Maybe that was why Harry would send you off to do other chores, he didn't want you to lose your cool and this job. Though, some of these people deserved a good tongue lashing.

Picking up a spare pail, you went around to a few tables and cleared them of empty glasses before using a rag from your bucket to wipe them down for the next set of people.

Apparently, in that moment, someone decided to move past you, and to their credit, they did say, "Excuse me, luv, behind yah," but you didn't hear him. So, when you straightened up from cleaning the table, you took a natural step back and bumped into a body; gasping when something wet splashed over your neck, shoulders, and down your back and chest. "Oh, fuckin' hell, lass! Watch where yer fuckin' goin'!" The man raged, his empty glass shattered on the floor.

You blinked in shock.

"What? Didn't fuckin' hear me when I told yah I was there!?" The man continued to reprimand you. "Gotta fuckin' listen in a pub like this, lass, you'll cause worse fuckin' accidents!"

"I'm so sorry," you offered meekly, shaking the ale off your arms and glancing at your front to see it trickled in alcohol. You needed to take a deep, long breath before turning to head for the bar.

"What happened?" Harry asked when you arrived, looking mild concerned.

"Another spill," you spoke through a clenched jaw.

"Oi!" The man who dropped his drink all over you approached the bar, barking at Harry. "It's not our fault you hired some deaf bitch! That can't fuckin' hear 'round her! She didn't move from my way, I lost me pint 'cause of her stupidity!"

Stupid...? Did this drunk asshole just call you stupid because HE bumped into YOU and spilled HIS OWN drink? Maybe the money you made at the bar wasn't worth this...

Harry had no issue giving the drunkard another pint of ale as you tried in vain to dry off, but your dress, hair, and skin was completely plastered in sticky alcohol. You felt your eyes burn with stress, wanting to burst into tears and sob your frustrations out, but you didn't have the strength to break down right now. That's how tired and upset you were - you didn't even have the energy to cry.

You went about your evening, bussing tables and avoiding whatever customers you could; keeping your head on a swivel to avoid any other accidents. You felt a little better, but the stress still lingered around the bar; feeling as if the customers were glaring at you no matter what you did. When a natural lull came, Harry let you back behind the bar with the promise of staying near in case you needed him, but you were ready to drop.

Your final straw was about an hour after the usual Peaky Blinders and Shelby brothers had come in for the nightly round(s) of whiskey. You smiled at Arthur when he approached the bar, all too happy to greet you loudly - the lad never having an issue with speaking up when you couldn't hear. Arthur was always happy to accommodate you, having a soft spot for you since his brother, Tommy, had made his interest in you known that past year.

Speaking of, Tommy Shelby, notorious gangster of Small Heath and the head huncho of the Peaky Blinders, entered after his brothers and made an instant approach. "Harry," he greeted when he stepped around the bar.

"Mr. Shelby," Harry nodded.

"Love," he acknowledged you, pecking your cheek sweetly. "All right?"

"Hmm?"

"Doin' all right?" He asked clearly, being similar to his brother and not minding speaking louder, slower, clearer, whatever you needed to hear him better. In fact, Tommy wasn't know for being patient, but with you, he'd repeat himself as many times as it took - but only for you.

"Oh, yeah," you sniffled, trying to hide your frustrations.

"Why's your dress wet?" He worried, petting a sticky lock of your hair back, his concern mounting.

You shrugged, "Bit of an accident, 's not a big deal."

"Someone run into you, again?"

You nodded, "It's fine, though. He got a new pint and calmed down."

Tommy shook his head, gritting, "Who?"

"Tommy."

"Tell me who, love."

"No, Tommy, it's fine," you insisted, petting your hand down his chest in a show of affection; seeing another customer approach the bar. "I'm sorry, I'm working, love, can we talk later?"

He nodded, pecked your temple, grabbed a bottle of Irish whiskey and moved for the snug - where his brothers and Aunt Polly waited for him. You got back to work, and barely noticed the time ticking by... Until a new customer approached you with a sneer already marring his face.

"What can I get for you, sir?" You asked kindly, needing to raise your voice over the usual drunken yelling. So, you preemptively warned him, "Sorry, 's bit noisy tonight, you'll have to speak up."

The man ordered his drink clearly, but another few men in loosened slacks and disheveled button-ups stalked up to the bar; crowding around the other two men who stumbled over in obnoxious laughter. You felt your panic spike, already overwhelmed by them all trying to talk over one another.

You were bombarded with drink orders from them all, eyes flickering between them because you didn't know who to listen to first. You tried to get the drinks together at the same time, but in truth, it was overwhelming because the men changed their orders, but got mad at YOU when you didn't quite hear them clearly.

Their drunken words added to the bar's noise level sprinkled with you being hard-of-hearing just resulted in a cluster fuck. "This isn't what I fucking ordered!" The original man complained, glaring at you with distain. "It's really not that hard, girl, my God. If you can't get our drinks right, how you gonna make any man a decent wife? Gonna fuck up his dinners, too?"

"Jesus - I'm sorry, there's just a lot going on. Why don't you remind me your drink and I'll get it now," you offered as kindly as you could.

"I doubt you'll be able to get it right," he sneered, but you missed half his sentence.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me!? Just fuckin' listen - it's not hard!" He snarled, literally chucking his glass just past your ear so it shattered into the liquor bottles behind you. "You can't even get a fucking drink right! Fuck you doin' workin' here, then!?"

This caused a huge commotion, obviously.

The Shelby's don't play games, you see, and the moment the glass shattered, they were moving out of the snug to investigate. When they realized someone had offered you disrespect, it was a shit show as the drunkards clashed with the men with razors stitched in their caps. Still in shock from the show of violence, you felt something in your heart snap you into motion.

So, you silently untied your apron, grabbed your coat and home keys, then literally walked out the backdoor - while the men all scuffled. The moment you stepped outside, you let your emotional dam give out - sobbing into the stinging cold air as you moved up the street.

You weren't sure what emotion you felt - be it anger, disappointment, shame, fear... Crippling insecurity. Once at the Irish pub, The Black Lion, you settled at the nearly empty bar and ordered your own drink, something you rarely did anymore. Something about working with alcohol all day made you less inclined to drink, but tonight was different than previous nights.

"All right, lass?" The bartender asked, pouring the whiskey in front of you. "Look a bit put out, huh?"

"Just a long week," you answered. He hummed, nodding and asking something. You felt tears in your eyes when you asked, "C-Could you repeat that?"

Louder, he repeated, "Anything you wanna talk about?"

"Oh, no, thank you," you waved off. "Just... Customers being unruly."

He laughed, "Oh, don't I know it. What happened?"

You shrugged, "Nothing important."

"C'mon, lass, if it's made you come inta a place like this, searching for a drink, it's probably important enough."

You sighed, "Honestly, I think I appreciate the silence."

He smirked, "I can respect that. Here," he poured you a new glass, "this one's on the house. I deal with unruly customers, too, so, I know you'll need this second one."

You chuckled and grinned broadly when he went to walk away, did a double take, then left the whiskey bottle to your side with a smirk. He moved off to sit at a different table with some other older men, leaving you alone for the first time in what felt like a long time. It felt ironic for a moment that you sought solitude and silence, but you just wanted time to digest all that happened tonight and move on.

Why couldn't people understand that despite you being a public servant, you were still a human being? A human with human emotions, human disability, who makes human mistakes. Yet according to those entitled pricks that think YOU work for THEM, you were a second class citizen who was underserving of empathy. How dare you ask them to repeat themselves! How dare you misunderstand their order - and quickly replace it! How dare you have a disability past your control that affects your day-to-day life!

There was a heavy, looming feeling of being inadequate.

Being alive was hard enough as it is, more so when a bodily function most others take for granted malfunctioned within you. It made life harder; you had to work harder than everyone else just to operate on their same level. However, if you dare show exhaustion, frustration, any degree of weakness, you were quick to be labeled as "lazy" or "entitled" or your favorite, "dramatic!"

Those people can hear pins drop, they couldn't ever fathom what this felt like. It wasn't that you couldn't hear, you could. It just wasn't on the level other's could heard at, and for whatever reason, it seemed to frustrate everyone else more than you. You were the one dealing with the predicament, and yet, everyone else was seemingly the most inconvenienced! They thought it mortally offensive to be served by someone "like you", thinking your disability was unacceptable in their proximity.

Fucking assholes.

If only they knew the way your stomach knotted itself every time you asked someone to repeat what they said. Every time you said, "Huh?" or "What was that? What did you say?"

You were embarrassed because it made you feel as if you couldn't even be a human "correctly", and it's not like you chose for this to happen! It's not like anyone chooses to make the obligation called life ten times harder by putting you at a functional disadvantage. You felt like "damaged goods" because you felt constantly out of the loop; missing a lot of what's said if you're not paying explicit attention.

However, years ago, you had perfected the ability to read lips. Yet this was difficult when most people you couldn't hear were your customers, majority of who are slurring their words. You worked in The Garrison, meaning that on any given night, there was loud discussions that added to your frustration - but the tips were too good to quit. So you endured. You felt pathetic and borderline like a failure if you quit any job; feeling as if your disability had won by emotionally crippling you. So, while it didn't make a lot of sense to work in a noisy place when you're already hard-of-hearing, you remained at your place of employment simply out of spite.

It was difficult reminding yourself it wasn't your fault, that you were still doing a great job - no matter how many customers catch attitudes, get snippy, or throw full-on adult tantrums. You despised needing to be the "bigger person", but figured nobody else would be willing to accommodate you, so, if you wanted a semblance of peace, you had to be the one to create it.

You reached for the bottle of whiskey after downing your second glass. With a harsh sniffle, you glanced around the pub and realized how many people had arrived to fill in the place. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, acutely aware that you were so deep in your emotional tarpit that you missed the noise rising.

So much for a quiet night.

You poured a new glass, praying to whatever God would listen that you're granted deliverance from this empty, helpless feeling that was pitting your stomach and chest.

After hearing the glass shatter, Tommy and his brothers were rocketing to their feet to investigate. They saw a man, red in the face, yelling hatefully at you behind the bar - liquor dripping off the shattered shelves from the man's bout of violence. There was no thinking for any of them. Tommy recognized you were in a predicament; striding forward first, and the chaos began.

It'd been a good bit since the lads had a good fist fight. No razors, no guns, no advantages - just bare fists and bar furniture.

It cleared the place out, and when the drunkard was hauled off by his companions, Tommy was wiping the blood from his knuckles. Harry frowned at the sight of blood splattered on the floor, shaking his head before calling your name - knowing you had some secret to getting blood out before it stained. However, there was no response. The Shelby boys all looked around expectantly, waiting for you to reappear, but it was evident by the way Harry searched for you that you weren't in the building.

Tommy placed a cigarette to his lips, just lighting it when Harry returned from the back room, informing, "Her belongin's are gone, she must've left early."

This made Tommy whip around sharply to use his own eyes and scan the room. "Nobody saw where she went? How was nobody watchin' her!?" Tommy asked demanded. There were several shakes of different heads, Tommy's anxiety flaring in his chest. He quickly rushed to grab his coat and flat cap, tugging them on in haste, hearing Arthur question where he was going. "Gotta find her," he explained through his panting-panic. "City's dangerous enough for people that can hear properly. God knows what can happen when she's alone at this time of night."

"We'll help," John offered, nudging Arthur, Finn, and their cousin, Michael Gray.

"I'll find her faster," Tommy answered, already out the door.

Michael shared a look around the room, wondering, "He acts like this all the time or just with that one pretty barmaid?"

Arthur smirked broadly, "That one pretty barmaid is Tommy's girl. Don't get caught lookin'."

"He's like this with just her," John chuckled, "always has been, always taking care of her the way she cares for him."

"What did Tommy mean? She can't hear?" Michael questioned innocently.

"Nah, girl's got some hearin', just not a whole lotta it," John explained as if common knowledge. "Never thought I'd see Tommy so patient, so fuckin' doting. He doesn't mind repeating himself if she asks, in fact, he does what he can to talk to her how she needs."

"What's that mean?"

"Like," John paused, sighing through his nose, "he'll face her directly, speak slower to let her read his lips. He speaks up, he's clearer, he wants her to feel like she's not a burden if she can't hear like us can so he does it all organically."

Michael smiled softly, vaguely impressed by Tommy's show of humanity. Speaking of, everyone's favorite gangster was prowling through Small Heath; stopping in each and every open business, searching for the familiar sight of you, and moving on when he was unsuccessful. You weren't at the Shelby home, nor your apartment, church, or anywhere along the Canal - places you frequent when overwhelmed.

Tommy was beginning to get cold, but he wouldn't say that. His determination would keep him warm, and even as the snow began to fall once more, Tommy hiked through the wind. Luck seemed to be on his side because when he entered the third pub, one he doesn't usually step foot in outside of evident emergencies, there you were; sat at the bar looking miserable.

"Thank God," Tommy breathed in relief, straightening his jacket and swiping his cap from his head. He approached your side and reached a hand out to the bartop in front of you, minimally startling you by announcing his presence without words. "Hey, love," he greeted you.

"What're you doing, Tommy? Blinders don't come 'round in here."

"We do when one of our own goes missing."

Your eyes rolled, "I'm not missing, I just needed a break."

"I know," he nodded, "but I'm here to make sure you get home safe."

"I don't need an escort."

"I don't think you do, but it's dangerous at night. You know I care about you and that includes your well-being."

"Oh, don't tell me, you're trying to play the gentleman card?" You scoffed, taking another swallow from your glass. "C'mon, sit down, I don't like drinking alone," you commented, "makes me sad, leaves me alone with my thoughts."

"We can drink at home, love."

"I don't want to go home yet."

"Why?"

"'Cause I'll have to explain why I got fired."

"You didn't."

"Huh!?" You yelped.

"You didn't lose your job," he assured softly.

"No?"

"No, not fired."

"Oh," you mulled over your thoughts, "that's good, then."

Tommy sighed and pulled his coat off to take the empty barstool beside you. "All right," he decided, going through the motions to stick a cigarette between his lips and light it. Smoke wafted from his mouth as he asked, "What happened tonight?"

"You already know, I'm sure."

"I want your truth."

"Doesn't matter," you refused, downing the last of the whiskey in your glass. You went to leave a few bills for your tab, but Tommy stopped you and covered it himself. Your eyes rolled and hand snatched the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey before heading for the exit.

Tommy followed not far behind.

"Love, c'mon, wait up," he grit, catching up to you and tossing his coat over your form, "you're gonna catch ill."

"I'm fine," your eyes rolled. Truthfully, the consumed whiskey in your system acted as an internal heating mechanism; warming your blood, wrapping you in a fuzzy grip.

"Talk to me," he pleaded.

"I just - I'm frustrated, okay?"

"Sure, all right," he agreed, "but why?"

"You don't get it, Tommy," you felt emotional, rounding on him with tears in your eyes. "You don't know what it's like, you can hear just fine, you can still see, you don't know what it's like to progressively lose one of your senses! The way people get angry for something I cannot dictate - it's like they're the one being vastly inconvenienced!"

Tommy nodded, just listening.

"And they crucify me for it!" You sniffled, feeling defeated. "Like I'm some pariah that will infect them with my loss of hearing. They treat me as if - as if I've asked for this, as if I'm doing it on purpose!"

"What would help?"

"Honestly? I don't know anymore, Tommy, but this town is seriously lacking in their ability to empathize. I don't know what I'm supposed to say or do - I get so angry now. It happens more and more, people getting angry or frustrated at me 'cause I need them to repeat themselves. What am I supposed to do, huh?"

He smirked slightly, but the sight angered you.

"Oh, fuck off, Tommy!" You turned from him, moving back up the street. "I don't need to laugh at me like the rest of them - "

"I'm not!" Tommy insisted, reaching for your wrist to halt you, whip you around, face him again. Both his hands extended to hold the area above your elbow, speaking clearly, "Listen to me. I was going t'wait, but I think now's a good time."

"Good time for what, Tommy?" You growled, now just wanting to go to bed and hide from your emotions; hide from people; hide from reality.

"I have a new job for you, in the company," he smirked. "We're still getting things structured, but why don't you step away from the bar and come work for me now? Help us build what's left, and then transition into your company job?"

You paused, just staring at him in mild shock.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Why would I joke?"

"You're... Offering me, what? Some job as your receptionist?"

"No, I was thinkin' something a little more paramount."

"Like what?"

"Like Chief of Operations?"

"COO?" You laughed, "For what company, Tommy?"

"Come home with me, we'll talk all about it," he bargained, "but if you accept, you've gotta quit The Garrison, love. We'll need your head in the game, no other distractions."

You felt something in your heart crack, asking, "What if you lot can't stand working with me, too?"

"Because of your hearing?"

"Or, you know, lack there of."

"Love," he smirked, "there's nothing you can do - intentionally or unintentionally - that would make any of us distance ourselves. If we get frustrated, it's not because you can't hear - it's never your disability, love."

"So, if you get frustrated, it's just, what? My personality?"

"More than likely," He grinned, arm snug around your waist again to walk down the snowy lane together. He laughed when your hand rose to pinch his side; squeezing his rib tightly, causing him to flinch and grunt lightly. "Hey, hey, easy with that," he chuckled, seeing your happy smile. "You all right, love? I know tonight was a lot, but... You feelin' any better?"

"I think so," you sighed. "The whiskey helps," you joked, raising the bottle to your lips.

"Mhm," he mused, taking the bottle after you.

"But present company helps more," you complimented softly. "You know, I'm sorry for today..."

"You're sorry that you couldn't hear a bunch of drunks in a packed-out pub?"

"Maybe?"

Tommy smirked, "Don't apologize, sweetheart. It's not your fault; like you say, it's not something you can control. I'm the one who's sorry you had to endure all of that... The lads got that guy pretty good."

"Good."

"And now you've a new job, yes?"

"After I hear about it," your eyes rolled in humor, taking the bottle back. "What's this big idea for a company anyway? What's it even called?"

"The Shelby Company Limited, and we're gonna change the whole of England, love."

requesting rules and masterlist

Peaky Blinders masterlist

792 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 5 months

Note

Reader using the power of seduction to get her way? She wants pick the show they watch tonight but Sevika fights her on it? Sloppy head.

She wants to get Sevika out the house to come run errands with her on a busy Sunday morning? Sloppy Top.

She wants Sevika to do the dishes? Reader is shoving her hands down her wife’s pants.

😌🤗🙏🏽

i love this so muchhh

men and minors dni

sevika's whipped for you. she's past the point of even trying to deny it. she's not really sure what happened to her, or when her womanizing ways were traded in for a singular obsession with you-- but it's where she finds herself now.

she wouldn't trade it for the world.

that doesn't mean it's not a little embarassing for sevika how quickly she folds for you.

like a week ago. she'd had plans she'd been looking forward to all fucking week to go on a bar crawl with a few of the crew members. and then she'd gotten home, and you'd pouted when she told you her plans.

"sorry baby, the boys are already waiting for me at the last drop." she grunted as you wrapped your arms around her.

"do you have to go?" you whined, kissing against her neck. "i've got a bubble bath drawn up. you could join me, spend the night in, split a nice bottle of wine..." you trailed off, sucking a hickey into her neck.

she didn't smack your hands away when they began unbuttoning her top. and she wasn't surprised in the slightest to find herself texting the groupchat that she couldn't make it. after all, you're way more fun than her friends.

that wasn't the most embarrassing time you've seduced her into your plans, though. not even close.

just three days ago, she'd been heading out to go to the gym.

"bye babe!" she called over her shoulder.

you stuck your head out of the bathroom. "where're you goin'?" you asked, a little whine in your voice. she froze, her hand hovering above the handle.

"the gym, why?"

you pouted. "oh, damn."

"what?"

"no, don't worry, go have fun." you promied her, waving it off.

sevika wasn't satisfied, though. "what?" she asked again. you just shrugged.

"wanted to watch that movie with you." you pouted. "thought we could have a movie night tonight since it's raining."

sevika tried to stay strong, she really did, but then you walked out of the bathroom wearing the shortest pajama shorts you own.

they shouldn't even count as shorts-- they're more like panties.

her grip on the handle tightened so hard she was certain she crushed it-- and all the thoughts of her work-out flew out of her mind. she gulped.

"'s long as you let me fuck you when i get bored." she mumbled as she started walking toward the couch. you just giggled and sat down on her lap, kissing her cheek.

"'s long as you face me toward the tv." you shrugged.

and now, sevika's sure she's reached a new low.

you've got her in the crawlspace under your porch, a flashlight in one hand and a shoe box in the other. why? because you 'think you heard a crying animal.'

sevika wanted you to leave it and let it die. "i'll scoop it out if it starts stinking, but we should just let nature do it's thing, babe."

"sevika!" you gasped. "that's horrible!"

she wasn't going to budge. not a bit. not when you pouted, not when you started throwing crumbs through the slats of your porch to feed the pathetic little creature, not even when you tried crawling under yourself.

but then, you'd cornered her inside your house, your tits on full display in one of your lowest cut tops. sevika knew she'd be under the porch before you could even start talking.

"sevika?" you asked sweetly, blinking your eyelashes up at her. she gulped, tried to pry her eyes away from your cleavage. "baby, please can you go under and see what's going on? i promise, once we get it out, whatever it is, we'll give it some food and water and put it in a bush back where it belongs. i just think it's stuck on something, and it's crying so much i can't ignore the poor thi--"

"you're fucking evil, you know." she cut you off. you had to bite back a smirk.

"what do you mean?" you asked

"you think i don't know you're trying to trick me right now babe?" she asked, pointing at your tits. "you think i didn't notice your sudden wardrobe change?"

you pouted. "so is that a no?"

"fuck! i'll fuckin' save the fuckin' animal, for fuck's sake, are you happy?" she asked, stroming to the utility closet to get her supplies.

you just giggled and followed after her, kissing her cheek. "and once you're done, you're gonna ride my face as a reward." you whispered against her cheek.

and now she's covered in mud, rescuing a fucking mouse from where it's been trapped in a sewer pipe. you're watching from the opening, holding a flashlight over her shoulder to help her light the way.

"you did it!" you squeal, jumping up and down. sevika grunts, turning on her belly to start crawling out. she's not gentle with the shoebox as she shoves it out from under the porch, but the fucking rat will be fine. you help her stand when she reaches the opening, and then pull her down for a long, slobbery kiss. all of her complaints and anger melts the second you do. "thank you, baby. really." you whipser.

sevika huffs. "i'm gonna go shower. you're gonna give the fuckin' rat a grape and set it free. then, i'm gettin' my reward." she smacks your ass, then turns to run in the house.

you giggle and call after her. "sounds good babe, i'll meet you in the bedroom. you want me to keep the slutty shirt on or...?"

sevika freezes on the porch, considers her options, then turns around to look at your tits in the nearly-transparent white shirt, and all the mud on her body is worth it for that view. she grins. "keep it on."

you giggle, nod, and blow her a kiss.

yeah, she thinks as she stumbles inside, stripping her muddy clothes off. she doesn't mind being whipped for you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x you #sevika x reader #soft sevika

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bitchsister · 5 months

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i've been picturing this for quite some time - bucky and gale casually having a convo over work/random stuff, bucky ignoring curt who's desperately humping his thigh and whining like a cat in heat? they've been arguing over stuff (mostly it's curt's being a brat as always) and ignoring each other (with gale stuck in the middle of it) for almost a week? but of course curt couldn't bear any longer without bucky's touch, feeling so empty not having bucky's cock in him so he jumped on bucky every chance he got pitifully lol. maybe bucky winning the idgaf war for the first few tries 😈 and eventually curt won and bucky give it to him HARD

I literally took this and rrraaaaaaannnnn with it.

I’m sorry (not).

Once again, I went insane.

If you’re not locked in for this shit, do not read: Desperation, Bucky has some unsavory coping mechanisms when it comes to his anger, lowkey watersports that lasts two seconds (oop), Eiffel Tower ish, more butt plug action

I HAVE to start making these a little shorter lmaoooo

I hardly proof read this. Pls love me.

💘

It was torture.

Curt had royally fucked up, and he knew it but had been doing everything under the sun besides apologizing to get Bucky back in his good graces while Gale sat quietly in the middle and watched it all unfold.

A bad driver, yes, but worse after a joint and a bong rip.

Bucky let him borrow the Range Rover to run errands across town while he and Gale stayed back to work on their docket and finalize their defense — it was crunch time for them and things had become beyond stressful, John’s usual laid back demeanor becoming far more ridged and on edge.

“At least it ain’t totaled!” Curt threw his arms up once Bucky had scooped him from the auto shop in his Jeep, his nostrils flared as he drove and bit his tongue. He had too much to think about, too much on his mind. Curt and his antics had to take a backseat until he and Gale could tie up their loose ends.

Curtis couldn’t give in though, feeling like a puppy with its tail between its legs. There was no scolding, but the silence was almost worse. “C’mon..” he scurried after Bucky who neglected to open Curt’s door for him, or kiss him like he usually did when they pulled into the driveway.

“It’s hardly a dent!”

The entire fender had fallen off.

With no choice but to let it rest, Curt moped around. He listened to music in his usual spot, he draped himself over a flamingo float in the pool, naked as the day he was born with a pink sunburn on his ass. He sunbathed bare, he sat by the window in only his underwear, he sucked on popsicles that stained his lips red.

He’d caught Gale’s glance a couple times, but not Bucky’s.

Don’t you dare look at him, Gale.

He’s just — he’s so —

He’s a fuckin’ brat is what he is. He’s cost me ten grand because he’s a fucking stoner who can’t drive. We have work to do.

At night, Curt would fall asleep before Bucky would ever get into bed. Some nights he’d even fallen asleep on the couch in his study once Gale managed to wake himself up enough to drive home, unable to ignore the texts Curt had eventually sent to him after three days of it.

Please tell him to talk to me.

Does he hate me?

Should I leave?

Yes, Bucky was pissed off but it was something he simply needed to get out of his system, and that couldn’t happen when all they’d been doing was discussing risk assessments and trial evidence.

He’ll come around, Curt.

Just wait until Friday. By then we’ll be all wrapped up with everything.

He’s just stressed. I promise.

Curt had been practically clawing at the walls come the weeks end, plopping himself over Bucky’s knee who had given him the slight satisfaction of pressing his hand against Curt’s belly to steady him there. “Almost done?” He chirped, but got no response.

“Did you color code the sections, Gale? Are they all in order?” Bucky’s gaze had stuck on the man across the desk from him, a pen in his mouth as he nodded.

“Yes — you’re worrying will only make —“

“And what about the evidence slides?”

Their back and forth droned on and Curt could feel himself losing grip more and more. Bucky had hardly looked at him for a week, and Gale just the same. He felt like he was right back at the beginning again, wondering when the next text would come by and he’d get that familiar hit of dopamine.

Wyd?

You up?

Wanna come over?

Can I come get you?

“I think we’ve got it all figured out, B.” Curt’s tone was gentle, apprehensive. Bucky could curse him out if he wanted — he wouldn’t be wrong for it.

He ground his ass into Bucky’s knee, huffing softly at the sensation. Without John to pay him attention with his tongue, some fingers or with his and Gale’s cock, he was left to his own devices.

It was hardly as fun.

Bucky wasn’t budging though, holding Curt still by his belly but not moving his hand, not one single bit of attention truly paid to Curt as he fussed on and on about the organization of their defense binders.

“Bucky,” Curt whimpered, leaning his back against his chest as his hands, much smaller than Bucky’s, grasped onto the one that rested over his stomach. “It’s Friday — it’s late. C’mon.”

Gale blinked at the two, his fingers idly scrambling to show each section of the binder Bucky anxiously asked to see without missing a beat or becoming too distracted by a panting and so desperate looking Curtis who spread himself out over Bucky’s lap, a pout visible.

It looked like he could get himself off that way, writhing and whining against Bucky’s body like the friction would be enough to set him over the edge.

“It’s all right here, Bucky. We have this down, buddy.” Gales eyes went soft, his tone assuring. “You’re the best lawyer I’ve ever seen work cases like this.” He was rounding third and headed for home — they were painfully close to the weekend, so far away from Monday morning court rooms.

C’mon, Galey.

“Being diligent never hurt.” Bucky went monotone, turning the binder again to flip through it himself. “It’s horseshoes and hand grenades — close isn’t good enough, Gale.”

One of Gale’s habits was diagnosing the people in his life, whether they knew it or not.

Bucky over time had acquired a wide range of diagnosis, though Gale couldn’t really nail down a few of them unless he put him through some testing, which he was unsure he was legally allowed to ask of him.

And Curt.

Christ.

He was a whole other story.

So imagine the line he towed, the way he held his tongue. Curtis had been open minded to his grounding techniques which he’d been getting better at implementing — in fact, Gale was astonished Curt had gone an entire week without lashing out at anyone.

He would count to ten instead. He’d remind himself Bucky still loved him, because the opposite was a silly thought, and he’d occupy his time with things that he enjoyed, rather than ways to get Bucky back under his wing.

He’d tried so hard.

He buried his face in the pillow on Bucky’s side of the bed and willed himself to make do with what he was given, but he failed time and time again. He felt so desperate, so hopeless. He’d fall asleep with the pillow that was losing his scent tucked against his chest.

Too much time had passed now, though.

It was becoming cruel torture.

Hips rocking against Bucky’s knee, he had totally lost all sense of self — his dignity taking a ding, no less. It hardly mattered anymore. No embarrassment could be felt on his part in front of two men who have picked him apart and fucked every piece.

“Curtis,” Bucky murmured, his brows furrowed at the little body that rut against him like a tiny dog who’d never been fixed, claiming its territory the only way it knew how. “You’re being fucking ridiculous.”

Curt gripped onto the side of Bucky’s desk, panting as he ground his ass stuffed with the only thing that’s kept him sane the past week — his first plug, the one Bucky had bought him under the pretense that Curt would wear it to class.

Of course wearing it to class had turned into wearing it to dinner, to the movies, in the passenger seat of Bucky’s now bruised up Range Rover.

“No, you are.” Curtis huffed, his eyes half lidded.

The siren.

Gale had made direct eye contact and had practically turned to stone, eyes wider than he’d like them to be as he watched intently with his hands frozen over the desk, picking idly at Bucky’s filled-to-the-brim calendar beneath his forearms. “Bucky..” his voice was strained, but his eyes had shown some sort of remorse.

Curt’s eyes had looked puffy lately, his shoulders sulked when he passed the study and neglected his spot near the window for a spot in the garden alone, instead.

“Gale.” Bucky mumbled, sights narrowed in his direction that time — he didn’t seem to be letting up, headstrong in whatever philosophy he felt he was upholding.

Gale had recently told Bucky he needed to be a little more firm in his expressions. Always a maybe, hardly ever a yes or no.

It seems he’d taken that to heart.

“Look at him.” Gales voice was still deep and quiet, trailing off near the tail end whilst Curt squirmed atop Bucky with red cheeks and messy hair as he moaned into his hands. “It’s been a whole week.”

“Gale, he wrecked my car.” Bucky pressed his hand firmly into Curt’s chest to still him but it was hardly any use.

“I get it — “ Gale mumbled back, “it’s pocket change, Johnny. Look how much he’s missed you.” He rose to his feet and bent over the desk, unable to leave poor Curt to writhe alone that way while his hands cupped the pink cheeks that’d become damp with desperate tears. “Poor baby.”

Curt’s black lashes fluttered in a haze, his lips parted where little puffs of determined breaths escaped while he rest his arms over the desk to assist his efforts in violating Bucky’s knee.

“I’m sorry, Curtie.” Gale continued softly, more kisses peppering Curt’s cheeks as the sound of his desperate efforts filled the study and seeped through the open windows into the garden.

Completely undone. So close, but so far. “Need it,” Curt whimpered, not daring to reach for Bucky’s cock because being shoved away would send him into a spiral. “Please — I — I’ll be so good,” hardly intelligible, barely a squeak once he’d gotten the words out.

“Ohh,” Gale cooed, his features softening again at the sight. He kissed away Curt’s tears again, swiping the rest away with his thumbs. “You’re asking nice, hm? Maybe just a little nicer,” he stifled his own moan at the sight, Curt crumbling in his hands. “You know how he likes his good boy, don’t you? Show him how good you can be, baby.”

Curt hiccuped as he inhaled, filling his lungs with the breath he’d been holding. “I fuckin’ have been!” His tone morphed into that of utter frustration through a clenched jaw that had began to ache, just like the rest of him.

It was an accident, the pressure built up inside of him pushing itself out — before he had truly noticed what he’d done, it was too late.

Bucky’s knee grew warmer and at first he’d hardly paid it any attention until it hadn’t gone away. “You didn’t-“ he grabbed Curt’s hips forcefully to move him aside and eyed the damp little spot left over his knee, “Curtis — you did fucking not just—“

“I’m so — I’m sorry. I’msorryI’msorry,”

Oh, the tears had tripled.

Gale still held his face and shushed him, a thought in the back of his mind had pondered the idea that Bucky deserved it, in some way.

Until Curt was shoved over the desk, the binder Bucky’d been fussing for hours over thudding onto the floor in a heap, now long forgotten and replaced by a pair of dickies that needed washing now, a far too sympathetic Gale and a Curtis whose wet cheek muddied the ink written in the tiny boxes of Bucky’s work calendar.

“Bucky, it was an accident,” Gale whispered, watching John yank Curt’s damp jeans off of him and toe them away carefully, an open palm slapped against perky, sunburnt cheeks that had been spending too much time outside with too little sunscreen. “He didn’t mean to, did you, baby?”

“No, I didn’t - I didn’t mean to,” Curt was reeling at the feeling of cool air tickling over his prickly skin. “I promise — I’m so-so-“ he’d been cut off by another open handed clap against his skin, a moan chasing after the whine forced out of him.

His body wiggled over the desk he stayed draped over, his wrists held behind his back with Bucky’s left hand, the other pressing a middle and index finger against the base of Curt’s plug to push it a little deeper into him.

His thighs trembled, damp and spreading apart further for Bucky whose hands were rough and unforgiving.

For the first time in a long time, he felt shame.

Desperation at its finest — so long were any ideals he previously philosophized. He was suddenly becoming nothing without them, the reaper of what he sowed.

And, so be it.

Bucky hardly gave him any spit, shoving his hips forward into Curt who gasped over the desktop, his eyes half lidded and staring at Gale who crouched before him, their lips locking for sporadic durations of sloppy and uncoordinated exchanges.

Cherry. Curt always tasted like cherry. “Oh,” Gale hummed, voice deep and living somewhere in his chest. “Look at you — just made for taking it. Our good boy.”

Curt was so pliant in Gale’s hands, jaw clenched in his palm as he held him in place; so soft and flushed a gentle pink, black lashes fluttering over damp, puffy cheeks.

Bucky was a mess of floppy brown curls falling into his eyes once his hips had developed a ruthless rhythm, Curt’s body beneath him malleable and so willing to please, each breath he took a stuttered choke on his blathering. “Right—right— there” he hiccuped through strangled breathes, “Fucking — fuck me— please”

Beneath him, Bucky’s handwriting muddied more into the pages of his calendar with the evidence of his so called punishment. “You like that, don’t you?” His hips had slowed so abruptly, neither Curt nor Gale could register it. “You’re far from deserving.”

Curt twisted himself to lie on his back instead, sprawled over the desk with his head hanging over the side, his legs spread and his mouth opening pliantly as he looked to Gale again who deserved a little loving, too.

“Oh, good boy.” Bucky cooed, palms flattening against the inside of Curt’s thighs to spread them wider as he watched Gale waste no time undressing himself, his leaking cock taken obediently into Curt’s warm, wet throat. “Make me take it back immediately, huh? No surprise.”

“You’re so fucking — god,” Gale couldn’t see his face anymore, just the mouth that his hips sputtered into but he knew Curt still looked like an angel, even despite the angle he was at. “Don’t care the brat you can be. You’re so good at makin’ up for it.”

Curt’s throat vibrated with a happy little hum, body wracked with shivers and tingles once Bucky began to fuck into him, hooking a hand around Gales neck to pull him closer and kiss him — hot, wet, hurried. As if he just needed anything to occupy his mouth. “Come with me, Gale.” He whispered against Gales lips who bit back a moan. “Make him swallow it.”

Each of their rendezvous had sent him farther and farther into his descent.

What are we?

What is this?

Do I love two men?

Do they love me?

Gale finished first, choking Curt on his cock and then the ribbons and ribbons of white hot pleasure that trickled hot and wet down his throat that he swallowed without hardly wasting a drop despite his belly that tensed as he gagged — this angle was tough, but Gale liked watching Curt struggle a little.

Once Gale backed away, the mouth he’d fucked was kissed by Bucky who licked into it, tasting Gale, swapping spit, biting tongues and lips and chins like animals in a deadly heat.

Curt’s belly grew warmer with a familiar sensation, little body spent atop the desk where his thighs shook and tensed together, his orgasm falling from the sky and straight onto him like some sort of atomic bomb.

His body lay spent and sprawled over Bucky’s table, their once organized files turned into heaps of now disordered mess and chaos. “Happy now, aren’t you?” Bucky tapped an open hand over Curt’s thigh, watching him grin and nod his head, unable to use his voice.

His throat was raw, his body still shuddered with the aftermath of his orgasm, “Told you he’d come back around.” Gale bent down to kiss Curt’s damp forehead, pushing his hair away from his eyes.

(Do you like the extra spaces between paragraphs? Is it easier to read?????? Anyway… lmk…..)

#💌#lcau #curtbucky #Curtbuckygale #yoyo writes

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dduane · 1 year

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I hope this doesn't come off the wrong way, given the previous thing about different ways people write, but I just wanted to tell you because I'm so excited: I finished the first draft of that script! I actually finished a writing thing for the first time in over a decade! I've never attempted to write a script before, and now I've finished my first first draft. My friend said that's a big deal, and it makes writing other scripts much easier when you finish your first. Is that what you've found?

Oh apparently I have a few more questions, sorry: The first time you finished a project, and you knew you were on literally the last few paragraphs or scene, or what have you, how did that feel for you? And when you were done, did you initially love writing, or did you debate ever writing again? Did you start working on something right away, or did you break for a little bit?

Sorry, I'm just so excited and proud of myself right now, and wondering what feelings might come next. I haven't been this proud of myself in I don't know how long. I mean, I know I have to finalize it, and even still, I know I'll never be able to get it made. However, for right now, I'm proud of myself! I'll probably go back to being sad I'll never get it made tomorrow though, which sucks, but it's a good night right now!

I hope you're doing well today! Sorry for the bombardment of questions.

First of all: congratulations! You've got every right to be excited. Screenwriting isn't easy or simple even at the best of times. Doing it well requires that you write in ways that can seem really counterintuitive when compared to working in prose. And it's always, ALWAYS a big deal when by completing something you break a long creative dry spell. So GOOD ON YOU! You got the job done. :)

(And now, of course, comes rewrite. The brain—yours, or someone else's—always has notes. But I'm sure you knew that.)

While I know how it is to be relieved on finishing a first script, my weird work history makes me kind of an outlier when it comes to discussing this. I went with unexpected speed from "I'm Just A First-Time Novelist, What Do I Know?" to "I'm Just A First-Time Screenwriter, What Do—WAIT WHAT??". Because the man who was soon to be my story editor on Scooby and Scrappy-Doo walked in the door one evening, having just read The Door Into Fire, and said, "Would you be interested in writing cartoons?"

It was kind of a surprising career development, but I quickly learned at that point in my life that when the Universe turns up on your doorstep with the Moon on a silver platter, you don't tell it to try next door: you say "Wait right there and I'll get a knife and fork." In the space of a given month of being walked around Hanna-Barbera for the first time, I turned in my first animation script... and then sagged in my chair on getting the phone call when my story editors told me, "That's a strong start. Now we have some notes." And all I could do was collapse with relief that I had not fucked it up.

However, this situation also left me in no position where I'd be able to debate ever writing a screenplay again... because suddenly there were a couple of very intent guys telling me "Okay, new story premise coming over to you, we need the outline by next Thursday and the script the Thursday after, you okay with that?"

(Are you kidding me? I thought. Let me get the knife and fork!)

So as I said, I'm really an outlier in this regard. The next three years of my life pretty much went as above, as Tom Swale and Duane Poole (great Thoth rest both their gentle souls) took me with them from one show to another, and kept me busy. (Thereby financing the writing of So You Want To Be A Wizard and The Wounded Sky and assorted other work.) But there's no question that each time you finish a script, each time you type FADE TO BLACK, you feel better about the whole enterprise. It doesn't precisely get easier. But it gets more familiar. And that helps. (If I have to be locked in a haunted house, I'd sooner it was one I'd played in when I was a kid than one I'd never been inside before...)

Anyway, again: congratulations. But also: Do not be too sure you'll never have it made. ...Granting you that "made" can look a lot of different ways in different times and places, and can shift under your feet without warning. But the world that depends on scripts can do very, very weird and unusual things without warning. Best to do your homework and be ready for them... and know where the knife and fork are.

Also, a side note: As you do more of this work you may well find that finishing a script leaves you with more energy, not less. I think this may be a lot more normal than we routinely allow ourselves to believe. It makes sense to me, from the psych-nurse end of things, that successful completion of a project allows the release of a lot of energy that you've been holding in reserve to help you cope if something went horribly wrong with the piece of work you just finished. Me, when I've felt that rush, I do a thing that C. J. Cherryh taught me: immediately roll another sheet of paper into the typewriter. ...Though these days, it'd be "open a new file." You don't necessarily have to do anything with that blank page or screen if you don't want to. But it's wise to be ready.

In any case: all the good luck to you (because sheer blind luck plays its part in this business, no matter how much we wish all our hard work counted for more)! ...And let us know how you get on.

#writing #process

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lastweeksshirttonight · 1 year

Text

I've been recapping Strike Force Five both for my followers who can't access or don't really have time to listen to the episodes, and also for myself to get more comfortable with longform writing, something I was doing as well with reviews of S1 episodes of Last Week Tonight. (I promise I will keep doing those, I know they keep falling by the wayside.) Going into episode three of the show, I know I have to address Jimmy Fallon and his toxic workplace, the news of which dropped as I was listening to the third episode of SFF for the first time. Putting this below the cut, and I'm going to be mentioning toxic workplaces, alcoholism, and maybe getting more personal than I need to again, so trigger warning for those.

To start, every worker deserves a safe, non-toxic workplace. This is the LEAST a company can do for their employees as far as I'm concerned. The things a toxic workplace will do to your mental and physical health are things I don't wish on anyone, and things I'm still wrestling with after being two years removed from one of the worst environments I was ever in. The stories that Fallon's staffers tell ring extremely true, from weaponized HR to cruel, dehumanizing showrunners/CEOs, and crying rooms. I want the best for them and hope, despite the very bad "I'm sorry if you were offended" apologies given by NBC staff and Fallon, that there are concrete efforts taken to provide them with a much better, safer workplace. Those apologies don't give me much hope right now, unfortunately.

The other thing is that I really hope Fallon commits to some sort of treatment for his obvious alcoholism. It's been an open secret for decades at this point - the article dances around it but anyone with even a modicum of knowledge about the New York comedy scene knows this. Again, I don't wish alcoholism on anyone. It's a horrible, destructive disease. But I don't think that the culture rot at Late Night can be fully addressed unless Fallon makes an effort to get help.

I've struggled with excessive social drinking and alcoholism runs in my family. It's almost impossible to get out of that hole until you realize you need to make the change. I hope this is the push to get him out of that hole. This isn't me trying to avoid holding him accountable for his part in making his show so toxic, far from it. This is me, coming from a similar place where I had to work incredibly hard to rebuild my life because of the shitstain behavior I perpetuated while drunk, recognizing someone that needs to do the same work to make things right in some way.

I thought about making this part of the recap for Strike Force Five episode 3, but it didn't feel appropriate. I don't know if I will recap the third episode, honestly, and if I do, it won't likely be for a bit, or at least until I know what the future of this podcast is. Last week, episodes dropped on Wednesday and Saturday, and there's noticeably no fourth episode as of today (Sunday). The part of this that sucks is that listening to the show DOES help the staff of all these late-night shows monetarily, including Fallon's, and I want to continue to support them. (Because it will come up, I do financially donate to multiple strike funds as well. You should do the same, if you're in a position to.) It's, understandably, a mess.

In the end, I just really want things to improve for Fallon's staff. It'll take a lot of work, but it's not impossible to turn things around.

#strike force five #lee's stream of consciousness #jimmy fallon #john oliver #stephen colbert #jimmy kimmel #seth meyers #tw: alcoholism #i may delete this later just bc i don't know if anyone genuinely wanted my thoughts on this #i just needed to get the thoughts out

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typically-untypical · 2 years

Note

Nobody talks about how Logan has begun to drink a concerning amount of alcohol in recent episodes. Maybe a fic about his new found coping mechanism?

You my dear anon are a person of a discerning palate. I have been thinking about this for a while but didn't think about writing anything on it. Apparently, I had a lot to say though because this fic ended up being a little over 2.7k

That being said there are a lot of Content Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Violence, depression, isolation, and self-hatred, so everyone please read with caution!

PS to my Tag list: Sorry I didn't tag y'all in all of the other ones I've posted this week, I wasn't using my own computer so I didn't have easy access to the list!

Logan didn’t have a problem. A problem would constitute that it was affecting him in ways that were unexpected. Logan knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how it was affecting him, and exactly what the outcomes would be. He was logic, and he was smart enough to make the choices that needed to be made to make him most efficient. His new founding coping mechanism might be less than healthy but addictions were tied to emotional triggers, and he was Logic, he didn’t have emotions. He wasn't addicted and the moment that this wasn't the most logical option for processing his stressors he would stop.

He would have no problem stopping.

Looking down at the empty bottle of wine that sat on his desk, Logan sighed, pushing himself out of his chair. He was desperately trying to lie to himself. Even he wasn’t convinced it hadn’t become problematic. He was spiraling, and Logan was aware of it. It used to be that a single glass at the end of the day would help his frayed nerves but now he was drinking at least a bottle a day, if not more. Whatever it took to keep himself from feeling the world around him. He wasn't supposed to feel. He just wanted to be numb.

Numb was so much easier than the screaming echoes in his head.

With a snap, Logan cleaned up his room, looking around what used to be a calming place for him. At one time his room had been his pride and joy, awards from childhood, Thomas' diploma, everything that Logan had worked hard to build. Now it was a monument to his failures, a life they could have had that was abandoned along with him.

After cleaning up his room, Logan had to sit back down. That was a lot of energy for someone not completely sober, and a lingering thought in the back of his head told him that he had earned another glass of wine but he could feel that maybe he needed a glass of water, just this once. Cleaning up his room felt like giving himself a new perspective. He summoned himself a water, sipping at it lightly. It was nice to have everything looking so clean, it was relaxing. It made him feel better to have the area looking clean again after so long. There was a small bit of hope in him that maybe he could keep his room clean, but he knew it wouldn't last. It wasn't just the bottles, it was his mental state, the things he was constantly trying to pretend that he wasn't feeling. However, maybe for just a little bit longer he could pretend like everything was okay, like he wasn’t being ignored, like his function hadn’t been relegated to ‘comic relief’, like he had actually found his answers at the bottle of the bottle.

Time wasn't kind. He couldn't sit there in his world of fantasy much longer. Despite all of the turmoil in the mindscape, Patton had been trying to maintain movie night, a tradition that had started when they had accepted Virgil. Things had felt simpler back then. Watching Big Hero 6 with everyone else after Virgil had convinced Roman that his choice sucked, had been entertaining. Now, everything was strained. Patton let Roman get away with everything he wanted, Virgil was on the Prince's side, and Logan was left to fend for himself, if he wanted to fight at all. Honestly, he had a feeling all of this was going to fall apart. The sooner the better, he didn't want to have to deal with the three of them but he continued to out of obligation. It served no purpose for Thomas to continue to fight himself. In what little ways he could, Logan wanted to support Thomas' growth as a person, even if it meant he got left behind.

“Hey Logan!” Patton said with a smile that looked a bit forced. He was trying his best, but they all knew it wasn’t enough. As Logan looked at the fatherly side he could only see the panicked look of frustration and fear as he hit the "Skip All" button, as he shoved aside Logan's commentary.

“Patton,” he responded with a nod, sitting down on the couch in the same spot he always took. He didn't want to add to the stress Patton had been experiencing. Logan was trying to be the best logic he could be, he wanted to support everyone's mental health, he had been trying to change, but it didn't feel like enough.

He could already feel his buzz wearing off and he rubbed his temples, debating on if he was going to try to make it thought movie night as he continued to grow more sober, or if he was going to continue on his bad habit? Roman was glaring at Patton, refusing to say a word to him. Virgil refused to make eye contact all together and Logan felt his headache grow. “You look awful, nerd.” Roman had always been like this, he pushed and teased and did whatever he wanted. He said cruel things not because he was cruel but because he had so little of a filter. HE was more like his brother than he realized sometimes. Normally, Logan just let it brush off his shoulders, much like he brushed off Remus' morning star but today... he just couldn't handle it anymore. He conjured himself a glass of wine, sipping at it slowly. He didn't want to feel anymore.

As Roman put on a movie, Logan could feel Patton staring at him. Logan was sure that Patton was judging him, silently trying to figure out how to bring up the conversation without being rude. Well the joke was on him, that wasn't possible, not if he wanted to get the information he thought it was so important he needed. Logan ignore him, just like everyone else had been doing to him. At least, he did until he had finished his glass and Patton continued to stare. At that point it was just annoying. “Is there something you need?” Logan snapped, eyebrow raised, irritation written into every harsh crease on his face.

Patton hesitated, if he had any good sense about him he would drop it, but of course he didn't. Logan knew only a few of the sides had brain cells and Patton wasn't one of them... maybe he was being to harsh... no, after everything that had happened Patton deserved worse, and it wasn't as if he was saying any of this out loud. "You've been drinking a lot of wine recently, are you... are you enjoying it?" He chickened out of the question he was going to ask. Of course he did, it was Patton.

"This was a decent vintage, I have it simulated from one of Thomas' memories."

"Oh, well... I'm glad you are enjoying it. You should be careful not to drink too much though, it's not healthy for you."

Logan looked at Patton, eyebrow raised. "Patton we are metephisical beings, drinking doesn't even make us drunk unless we choose for it to do so." He stated, waving his hand as if that fact was obvious.

"Well... it's um... it's just unlike you kiddo."

“First of all, I'm not your child, and second of all, I am allowed to pick up new habits as they suit me.” If Patton wanted to continue to dance around his point, the Logan wasn't going to entertain him and give him the information he wanted.

And apparently Patton wasn't going to ask. “Yeah, you're right, I just... I wanted to make sure you were aware of the change. You know sometimes we start picking up habits and we don't even realize it."

"Leave the nerd alone," Roman called, "If he wants to drink let him drink." Logan was both thankful that Roman cut in and frustrated.

He was aware, he was drowning and all the three of them could do was push him aside as they continued their next fight. Roman came to his defense, but he was completely ignoring the fact that Logan needed help. Silence once again fell over the room, the only sound being that of the TV in front of them. The wine in Logan's stomach churned and the itch to grab something stronger ran up his spine. There was a part of him that was thankful Patton had dropped the subject, a part of him that was thankful Roman had stopped their conversation. He didn’t want to talk about the unhealthy nature of his coping mechanism and all of the other things he already knew. He just wanted to be left alone. However, there was another part of him desperately crying out, begging for someone to notice he was in trouble and needed help. He was desperate for the care which might make him break and truthfully answer the question Patton refused to ask. “I’m very much aware," He answered, gripping the side of the couch. How could he not be?

He was aware he had a problem; he was aware he needed help, but the numbness was so much more preferable to the pain. Loud intrusive thoughts plagued him during the day, and if he didn’t self mediacate, they would almost assuredly win. What was a side to do when they realized that they were no longer a useful part to the human they cared for? He needed to cope more than he needed to stop himself. He wasn't willing to admit the truth that waited for him in sobriety.

No one was going to offer him a helping hand, so he was going to do what he needed to do.

The quiet was no longer the calm of a movie night but the tenseness from an unfinished conversation. Patton was fidgeting and Roman and Virgil eventually looked back at the two of them. There was something in both of their eyes that Logan couldn't pin point, but he wasn't comfortable under their gaze. “I will be returning to my room.” He stood up, pushing himself from the couch, maybe that wine had been a little stronger than he thought. It was fine, he could continue to pretend, he had a lot of practice in it. Honestly, he was thankful to have an excuse to leave anyway. He hadn’t come down to be judged, and he had no intention of staying here if all they wanted to do was stare at him and make him feel guilty for the way he was coping with the pain they caused.

He swayed a little bit as he reached the top of the stairs, hand on the wall to keep himself up. It didn't feel like they were staring anymore, maybe this was just one more time that they wanted to get rid of him. He summoned a bottle, drinking a heafty swig before disappearing it.

He was fine. Everything was fine.

The world was spinning, but he had nothing else to do tonight. He didn't have to work and he could just slip into unconsciousness. As he entered his bedroom, he found the whole floor covered in empty bottles, glasses, any kind of container that had once held alcohol. What was more, he knew each one, the bottle he had just drank from a moment ago was sitting on his desk. They were all staring at him, mocking him and he recoiled, hand on the door handle. He had just cleaned his room, all of this should be cleaned, instead in was meticulously placed as if to mock him. Was he really so drunk that he was starting to hallucinate? He knew he had a problem, he just didn't think it had gotten this bad.

“Hello Chemisty Solution, get it? Cuz that’s what you smell like.” Remus was laying on his bed, looking at him. There was a smirk outlined on the chaotic man's face. He didn’t normally have issues with Remus but after the incident with Thomas’ schedule…. After one more person had helped him be pushed away!

“Out,” He growled. Logan snapped to get rid of the bottles, but they didn’t move. This had to be some fuckery that Remus was pulling to prove a point. Fine, Logan would just do it the old fashion way. He began picking them up one by one.

“Now where is the fun in that?” Remus watched him like a hawk, this was the exact reason that Logan had left the Movie night. He didn’t need to be judged. He wanted to cope in peace where no one else could give their two cents into how he could fix a problem they caused. “Y’know, Jannie says you are going to come to your sense and reach out for help, but I think he underestimates how stubborn you are, so I’m taking over.”

Why should he reach out for help from a prince who never listened to him, an emo who called him the least favorite, a father who refused to listen to anyone's voice other than his own, a gremlin who wanted him to suffer, or a snake who benched him? Why would he reach out to any of them?!

“Get Out,” Logan stated again, frustration and anger pouring over him as he fought to grab one of the bottles that was sitting on his floor. Bending down like that was hard, he almost lost his balance but he refused to lose his dignity in front of Remus. He refused!

“Nah, I’m here to stop you and force you to look at the consequences of your actions or some shit.” Remus was acting nonchalant, laying in the bed as if this were a normal conversation between friends but he didn't get that privilage.

Logan could feel his blood boiling, his anger pouring off of him in waves as he threw a bottle towards Remus’ head. He shouldn't have done that, but the anger felt so good. The bottle shattered next to Remus and Logan could feel his body getting hot. “You don’t get to play the hero when you are part of the problem!” Logan went to grab another bottle, ready to throw it again, but Remus wasn’t on the bed anymore. Instead, he stood in front of Logan, holding onto the other man’s wrist tightly. He was stopping Logan from expressing his anger, stopping him from lashing out but this was the most he had felt in weeks. He wanted the anger, because it was the only emotion that didn't leave him feeling like a gaping hole had been shot through his chest. He didn't want to see the pity in Remus’ eyes.

“I want you to go crazy," Remus' voice was surprisingly calm and quiet, "but this isn’t what I meant. You need to throw that anger somewhere where it will be constructive, or you’re just going to get consumed by your own flames.” No, he didn't get to lecture Logan. He didn't get to try to be a savior.

Logan fought and struggled against Remus hand. He didn’t want to hear this. He had been fighting alone for so long, when he was hurt no one reached out to him. He wasn't going to lay down his weapon just because someone was finally acknowledging that there was a problem.

"Remus, let me take over." That was Janus, his voice also smooth and calm as Logan felt Remus disappear. Janus took his place, but he led Logan's hand down, no longer raised in a form of aggression. "I'm sorry Logan," He whispered, and for a brief moment Logan almost felt like he was going to get the apology he wanted, but instead, Janus continued. "This is going to hurt, but you need to let yourself feel all of it."

Suddenly the buzz and the anger were gone, instead replaced by everything both had been trying to mask. Tears began pouring down Logan's face as he almost collapsed to his knees, caught by Janus' other arms.

"Please, I don't want to feel, I don't want..."

"I know," Janus cooed quietly, "But you need to. If you are going to get over this, you are going to have to feel all of the pain you've been hiding."

Logan collapsed into Janus' chest, his legs having already given out.

"Please, I don't want to feel anymore."

Tag List: @simplestoryteller @fantasticfangirl21 @joylessnightsky @melaniidarling

#Untypical Creations #Sanders Sides #Sanders Side fic #Fanfic #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Remus Sanders #Janus Sanders #alcohol abuse #Depressed Character #Violence #Logan Angst

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 2 years

Text

With Words that Play Funny (In my Heart)

Pairing: Yandere! Risotto x reader

Prompt: “No, sorry, you laughed. I … I've never seen it before. It’s — pretty.”

Description: You wake up with some of the worst cramps you can ever remember having in your adult life. You aren't in the mood to deal with them, or Risotto for that matter. However, your change your mind every so slightly when you realize something... What made Risotto go out of his way for you like that?

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: afab reader, mentions of blood and periods and the products people use for those, listen we been knew all along this was a vent piece for sydney, ask to tag but this particular chapter is pretty cute and sweet

Word Count: 3561

Notes: Taken from this prompt list! It’s been so long I’ve had this sitting in my drafts I legit don’t know what prompt list I got this from.

I wanted something a little softer for them this time around... As always, I don't know where I'm going with this and when I will update but I am constantly thinking about these two. Shaking them around like an unfortunate goldfish in a bag.

Also what if you were working on a different, completely unrelated yandere Risotto piece and you decided the best way to exercise your brain and work past whats stopping you in the first its not sfw bits is to start a completely new wip. like what would you do. It’s also been so long that I’ve had this wip the other Risotto fic got posted like. 2 months ago at least. That’s how it’s going guys!

Part: One | Two | Three | Four | Five

You didn’t really remember when you fell asleep last night. Frankly, at this moment it was hard to remember anything that had happened last night—you were face with some of the worse cramps you had gotten in your adult life.

“No, I don’t want this…” You groan as you slowly sit up, holding your stomach. You look around, vaguely remembering Risotto had returned last night. But you don’t see any sign of him, at least not in this room.

A bleary look at the digital clock shows it reads 11:43 am. You can’t help but rub your eyes and let out another noise of discomfort. “...Hey Glory,” You clear your throat a little after speaking. Your ever dutiful stand appears before the bed, looking down at your disheveled form. “I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do about cramps, is there?” You look to her as a yawn passes your lips.

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do to dull the pain.” Like that, she dashes your hopes. “Your pain is caused by a necessary bodily function, and it would do you more harm if I stopped this process.”

“As much as that makes since, that sucks.” You let out a sigh, flopping back on the bed. As you do so, you hear the door to the room creep open.

“...You’re awake.” Risotto doesn’t seemed surprised that you’re talking to your stand.

“I don’t want to deal with you right now.” You huff and turn away from Risotto. As you do so, however, you groan again. “...Are you feeling okay though?” You can’t help but frown as you speak the words. You tell yourself you’re only worried because you want to know the lasting effects of Glories healing.

“You should only be feeling minor aches and pains in the area that we healed.” Glory supplies.

“I’m doing okay. Better than usual, even.” You huff at his words, and curl into yourself more in an attempt to relieve your cramps. Soon enough you would have to get up and do something about it, though. “You… don’t look well.” You can hear something akin to worry in his voice. The bed dips on the opposite side and you feel him reach over.

“Don’t touch me.” You say first. His hand stops by your head-- he was likely going to check your temperature. “I’m not sick. I just…” You look over your shoulder at him. Risotto is frowning softly, white hair framing red eyes that only show worry. “I just… started my period is all. My stand can’t do anything to help the pain…” You mutter your words until your quiet once more.

“I see…” Risotto backs up from you, but you can still feel his weight on the bed. “Can I help in any way?” You can feel the weight of his gaze on you. With another heavy heaved breath, you sit up and face him.

“You could leave me alone.” You don’t miss the way his face falls slightly. You feel an odd combination of smug and sad, but don’t dwell on it too hard. “…Actually. You don’t have like, tampons, do you?” You frown and find you can’t really meet his gaze. You weren’t really embarrassed about having your period, more so that it was awkward that you had to talk to Risotto about getting the stuff you needed.

“…I suppose I did forget some things.” You glance the corner of his lips rising in mirth.

“Well. I need to shower so like… can you go and get me some? And maybe like, some pads and midol too?” You barely meet his gaze. You feel a little humiliated, having to ask the man who kidnapped you for such basic necessities but you also had hope that Risotto would be civil about this. He had to be, right?

“As much as I would like to tease you… I’ll consider it payback for you healing me last night.” You can’t help but sigh in relief.

“Right. Thank you…” You bite your lip awkwardly. Should you even be thanking him for something you needed? “I’m uh… yeah.” You stood quickly from the bed, moving over to the dresser. You quickly pull out some clothing that was comfortable and made way to the bathroom.

You give Risotto one last look as you step into the bathroom. Once again, his face is unreadable. You can’t help but sigh as you close the door and lean against it. You wanted Risotto to trust you, of course, so you could find a way out… but at the same time it was so hard to put your guard down. It was hard to act any semblance of normal around him. Whether it was because of the situation you found yourself in, your own awkwardness, or simply how Risotto choose to act you knew not but you wished you didn’t to play these stupid social games.

You go to a small cabinet in the bathroom where Risotto keeps the towels. You don’t really feel like showering but that was the depression speaking, you supposed. You felt gross and perhaps the warm water would help with your thoughts and cramps.

Opening the cabinet, you can’t help but notice that above the shelf where the towels were… there were tampons. Unopened and sitting innocently with other toiletries. It made you pause a moment.

“Did he… leave because I asked him to?” You peak outside the bathroom door, finding the bed room empty. Walking over to the bedroom door, you can confirm that the apartment is empty as well.

“He really… left because I asked him to.” You frown as you make way to the bathroom, closing the door once more as you slowly go about getting ready for your shower. You weren’t sure how to feel. It was odd thinking he listened not because it was something you needed but… he wanted to make you happy.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” You groan again as another painful pang shoots through you, and start up the shower to let it warm up. You set about getting undressed and stepping into the, by now, familiar shower. Warm water washed away some of the pain, and any of the dirty feeling you felt but not the strange feelings going through you.

You weren’t even that mean to Risotto, all things considered. So why would you feel bad…?

It didn’t matter, your strange sense of guilt could be ignored. When he returned, this would be your first time alone with Risotto is a somewhat normal situation. No stands to test, no wounds to heal, nothing to keep the two of apart. How would this go?

All too soon, you have to leave the welcoming warmth of the water and towel off. You get dressed and… decide you could humor Risotto. It wouldn’t hurt to make him feel useful, would it? Certainly not. It could only do good things for you, after all.

As you step into the bedroom you can hear though the walls the sounds of bag being placed on the table. Had you taken that long in the shower…? Regardless, you step out into the living area slowly, pushing wet hair from your face to properly watch as Risotto places two bags on the table.

“You’re back…” Your words are quiet as you make careful steps towards him. It’s hard to find what to say, or what to do. You spy what you had asked for in one of the bags-- tampons and pads of a familiar brand, medicine to help with the cramps. In the other you saw something that couldn’t help but make you smile. It was an energy drink, the very same kind you had once tried to throw at Risotto. There were some candies and chocolates in there to.

“Um, thanks for getting me these things…” You take the bag with the toiletries in one hand. Risotto looks to you with a small smile. There’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t really know how to decipher.

“A lot has happened since you’ve come here…” He looks down a moment, then back to you. “Since you’re not feeling well… I wanted to let you relax today. Even if you want to do it without me.” Your face softens as he slowly pulls the treats from the bag and places them on the table.

“That’s… really thoughtful of you, actually.” You can’t help but smile again watching as he pulls the energy drink out. “I didn’t think I would be allowed another one of those after I tried throwing one at you.” You can’t help but laugh as you say the words aloud. After all that had happened between the two of you, the idea of throwing one at him again just seemed hilarious. You think he might actually let him if it would keep you happy. Your giggle doesn’t stop immediately as you think about it some more.

It takes a moment for you to compose yourself and when you do, you find that Risotto is staring at you strangely. “Sorry I just--” You cut yourself off with another giggle fit. “Knowing what I know now…” You shake your head, ready to leave the room to compose yourself and take care of business but Risotto speaks, stopping you.

“No, sorry. I just--” he shakes his head. “You laughed. I’ve never seen it before. It’s,” He takes a moment, watching the smile fall from your lips to surprise. “It was pretty.” You’re silent as you let his words wash over you. Rather than let embarrassment flare on your cheeks, you instead escape to the bathroom quick as you can, heat flaring on your cheeks.

Alone, you say aloud. “He thinks it’s pretty…?” Not that you hated your laugh but… no one had ever called it pretty before. The idea that he liked it, that the sound of you laughing made him happy made you want to giggle more.

“What am I saying?” You frown and pull yourself together. This was Risotto you were talking about—Risotto, who had kidnapped you from your apartment, who had hurt you in order to see what your stand was. You were laughing at the pure absurdity of seeing an object you had tried to use to protect yourself in such a mundane setting!

With a final sigh, you clear your mind of it, instead taking the moment to actually use the things you needed for your period. All the while, still thinking of Risotto. He wanted you to relax today… but how could you do that with him around?

You take your few minutes in the bathroom, washing your hands and looking yourself in the mirror. You wonder if you were even the same person he had taken the week before? You looked… more tired, then the weeks before. Even freshly showered, you seemed… less yourself. The stress of being here was getting to you. As much as you would love to relax, would you even be able to?

You take careful footsteps out of the bathroom, and back to the bedroom door. Beyond there, Risotto waited. You suspected, neither of you really knew how to act normal around one another.

No one normal would resort to kidnapping someone they were interested in, after all.

Not like you knew how to actually act around someone you were interested in either, though. Had you met under different circumstances, you might be awkward around Risotto for all the right reasons. But here, against your will… You were struggling to find the right things to do or say.

Still, with a heavy sigh, you push open the door to the rest of the apartment. Risotto is not in the immediate area, instead he sits in the living room, the quiet noise of some old show playing. He turns your way when he hears the click of the door closing. He doesn’t speak at first, instead watching as you walk to the snacks innocently sat on the table.

“I didn’t think you would want to come out here.” His words are loud against the quiet of the apartment. You can’t help but frown as you pick up a pack of sour gummy worms, holding them gingerly as you look to him.

“I actually…” You pick at the corner of the package, playing with it as you run over the words in your mind. “You already had the stuff I needed before you even left the house. Why did you leave when you knew that?” You look to Risotto who turned around on the couch in order to face you. His face remains unreadable.

“...You seemed upset, so I wanted to make you happy. Even if it means you don’t want to see me.” You frown at his words, sitting backwards in a chair to face him.

“But… you want me to fall in love with you, don’t you?” You question him. “How does… that achieve your goal?” You fiddle with the ends of your hair, meeting his gaze after a moment of letting your words sink in. “I don’t get it. I don’t really get you, actually.” You admit.

“You don’t have to understand.” He shakes his head. “I want you to be happy here. I know I took you against your will. I know you still hold that against me.” You look away as he says that. “I can’t let you go, but there’s little ways I can make it better.” You’re silent as you think over his words.

“...Why did you have to do it this way?” The hurt in your voice is undeniable. “Couldn’t you have gone about this normally?”

“Tesoro…” Risotto stands from his position, moving towards you. When he stands close, looking down at you, he speaks again. “I… don’t live a normal life. There was no way I could date you normally or…” He hangs his head low.

“You know what,” You sigh and shake your head. “It doesn’t matter now.” You look up at him. “I don’t… I don’t want to live sheltered like this. I don’t want to be afraid of you.” As you meet his gaze, you aren’t sure what your looking for. “If… I try to give you a chance, will you, in turn, give me more freedom?” You can’t believe the words you’re saying.

“You… want to give me a chance?” Risotto seems surprised to hear you saying this.

“You’re intelligent enough to know I want out. I doubt I could fool you into thinking you’ve won my affections.” You admit. “And if that’s the case… nothing is going change unless one or both of us concedes.” The two of you watch one another a moment. Risotto, who was normally hard to read, had a pensive look on his face. You night dare to say he even looked… scared. Of what, you weren’t sure.

You, on the other hand, were nothing but nervous. Would he concede? How bad did he want you affection? “What… kind of freedoms do you want?” He asks slowly, red eyes watching your form with a subtle frown.

“I want…” You paused a moment, unsure. You didn’t expect to get this far (or that the man that kidnapped you would at all be reasonable, but he continued to surprise you). “Um… well, for starters, can I call my mom?” I ask him. “And… maybe leave the apartment?”

“That’s all you want?” He furrows his brows.

“Well… not really. But I’m trying to be…” You pause. “Little steps, you could call it.” Risotto nods.

“Well…” Risotto stands up from his position, moving to where you sat in the chair. Sitting with him standing before you, you can really appreciate how tall he is. “What do you suppose I would get in return for this?” He looks down at you, barest hint of a grin dancing on pretty lips.

“I think you can think of something of equal value…” I huff, rolling my eyes and looking away from him. “I already let you share a bed with me, after all.” At that, he lets out a little laugh. It makes you pause because… You, hadn’t really heard him laugh much either. It didn’t seem like he did often…

“Hm… I suppose you’re right.” He leans on the table beside you. “You can call your mother. With my supervision.” You look up at him, surprise dancing on your features. “As for leaving the apartment…” He frowns softly. “It makes me uncomfortable… but I’ll think on I it more.” You grinned at him now.

“Well… Maybe we could go out on some sort of… um…” Your words die out as you realize what you were about to say. “We could go out on a date…?” You look to the tiled floor as you speak, color dusting your cheeks. “It can be whatever you want. I promise I won’t um. Do anything suspicious.” You laugh a little awkwardly at that, glancing up to meet his gaze.

If the idea interested Risotto, he doesn't let it show on his face, gaze trained on you and your reaction instead. “...We’ll see.” His words were soft. “It’s a lot to consider. But I won’t deny you a call to you mother… family is important.” There’s something faraway in his voice, in the look in his eyes.

“Thank you.” You don’t hesitate to speak the words, only for the irony of it to hit you. Still, you don’t regret them; not when a small smile makes way to Risotto’s lips. “Did you keep my phone?” You ask suddenly.

“I did, actually.” You light up at that. “You’ll…” He sighs. “It’s been off since… the night I took you.” Risotto doesn’t mince his words. “I understand if you don’t want to see the messages from your friends. If you’ll allow me, I’ll navigate to your mothers number and call her so you don’t have to see all that.”

“Oh…” You frown softly. You hadn’t even considered that. All the texts, discord messages and snapchats people must have been trying to send you... It sends a wave of sadness through you that you can’t hide, the sight causing Risotto to frown. “That might um, be for the best.” You wanted your friends and roommates to know you were alright too… but perhaps it was for the better they thought you up and just left them… You’d rather not think about it, actually.

“If that’s what you think” Risotto nods. “Would you like to call her now?” He asks.

“Um…” You sigh, shaking her head. “Let’s do it tomorrow. I’ve had enough emotionally charged conversations for one day.” You admit, resting your head on your folded arms.

“Of course.” You don’t notice as Risotto reaches for you, only to flinch as you feel his hand rest on your head.

“S-sorry!” You cry as he quickly retracts. “I’m just um, you know…” You say lamely, but it doesn’t clear the hurt from his face.

“I understand. I just…” He pauses as you grab his same hand with both your own.

“Listen… you can touch me. You just have to ask.” You blush as you bring his palm to your cheek, and hold it there until you can tell he does so of his own volition. “I said I would give a little to get a little so… I’ll try and um…” You pause as you try to think of the word, the boldness of your action and the warmth of his touch turning your thoughts into pleasant mush.

“Indulge me?” Risotto supplies, moving to be down on his knees so he was face to face with you.

“Yeah. Indulge.” Your struck by the softness of his gaze, the gentleness of his touch as he cradles your cheek.

“_____…” Your name is the sweetest sound coming from his lips.

“Hmm?” You close your eyes a moment. Maybe you could indulge in this moment too. Ignore the blush rising to your cheeks, the frog forming in your throat.

“I think I know what I want in exchange for that phone call.”

“Oh yeah?” You open you eyes. His look hasn’t changed one bit. If anything, he looks like he loves you more then the moment before.

You don’t doubt that, actually.

“Would one kiss be alight?” He asks it so simply, so sweetly. You could almost forget just who it was that wanted to press their lips against yours.

“...A kiss?” You repeat, closing your eyes.

You think about your mom. How a hug from her could probably fix a lot of things wrong with you right now. How her voice would comfort you in this strange new world you found yourself in.

“I suppose I should have expected that.” You don’t have to open your eyes to see the barest hint of a grin meet his lips. “Yes, I suppose that’s equal then.” You open your eyes to see him; large form on his knees before you. Gentle, calloused hands gently tilting your head opposite of his own.

This is it, this is really it. You close your eyes. Allow him to place a hand on your waist, and find yourself resting your unsure ones around his neck. You were going to kiss Risotto.

The man who loved you.

The man who kidnapped you.

...How long had it been since you kissed someone, anyways?

#yandere risotto #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere risotto x reader #risotto x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #yandere risotto nero #god tagging shit is like how many times can I say the same thing differently #jjba part 5 #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure

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batstorm93672 · 2 years

Text

Robin had his back pressed against the brick wall as he sat on the ground. He'd been in this position for about thirty minutes, his communication devices were barely working after the scuffle. Robin can only rely on Oracle to soon find out how unresponsive he is and look into it. Then again, it's a busy night so holding out for that was thin. Robin had to keep himself awake, he took about three bullets to his stomach he didn't have anything useful and he could barely move.

So Robin sat there in the cold rain as he clutched at the wounds in order to stop the blood.

Robin clicked on his comm, maybe just maybe he can get something across. His side of the channel was messy, but maybe they can hear a bit.

"Is... is anyone there? It's Robin... I need backup. Everything has been taken care of, I'm just in a bad spot. So... if anyone gets this, please come. I... I don't want to die like this, I don't know how much blood I lost and I don't wanna go like this. Can anyone hear me? My side is broken, god I hope someone gets this I really don't wanna die like this"

Even though Robin knew no one would respond, a part of him hoped for something. When nothing came he kept talking, it was nice to talk out loud maybe someone can hear his pain or maybe no one can. That's fine too, if no one can hear him then they won't hear how pathetic he sounds like this.

"It'll suck if I die, again that is. The first time was instant and it felt like going through water to realize I died when I arrived in Hell. This... is different, I'm bleeding and the pain is intense so if I die here... it will be slow I suppose. I'm rambling and I don't even know if anyone can hear... if anyone can, please know I'm sorry. This is pathetic of me to ramble as such... but it's kinda nice? I lost too much blood if I'm losing my composure heh. Or maybe I've simply learned from my family, I love my family. No matter how annoying they are... I just don't wanna die again. If I do, that's fine, I expect it to happen if I'm honest. With all my teaching, I've learned to die many times. Grandfather made sure of that, mother tried to stop it, but she couldn't and I know that. Then she died and she changed a lot... I miss my mother... I miss my family... I really don't wanna die, not now, not yet. I'm not ready to die yet... how old was I again? That year of torment, the pain and suffering. I guess I missed a whole year of growing up, maybe I could've been better for you all. Maybe I would've changed and be something you'd all want... heh I have issues, I know that. My want to be what those whom I look up to. I want to be perfect for them... because that's how I perceive worth, being what someone stronger wants until I can surpass them and show that I'm better. I can't... can't focus anymore... I think I'm really dying. I'll miss you all, even if you can't hear it... I'm dying again and I think I got everything I wanted to say out. So I think I'm okay if I die now... yeah I'm okay"

Footsteps, thumping from afar.

Robin couldn't keep himself awake anymore to hear it all the way through. He was dying now... and he's okay with that. He got everything he wanted to say out, even if no one hears it. He can die again and it'll be okay.

It'll be okay.

#ambiguous ending #damian wayne #robin #whether he lives or dies is on how you see it #maybe they got there in time maybe they were too late #tw blood #tw death

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godshideouscreation · 2 years

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Follow up about my husband's friend (sorry for the length, it's just a lot to explain):

I knew the friend first. We never did anything, but we talked a bit and I was trying to take things further at the time. He introduced me to my now husnand and we've been together 7 years.

But I don't think I want to be married to him anymore. We have a lot of problems that didn't start until after the wedding (2 years ago). It feels like he tricked me into thinking he was someone else, and now that he has me tied down he's free to be himself. I've learned that we have very different goals in life, and extremely different priorities. I'm constantly making up for his bad money management (which has put me into debt), and there's absolutely zero spark or romance anymore. He can be very closed minded about things and doesn't allow room for anyone else's point of view. He says he wants kids-- but his lifestyle isn't how I would want to raise a family. I love him still, I don't want to hurt him by leaving, but I don't want the life he wants for us.

Back to the friend -- He and I met almost 10 years ago. We have a lot in common, and we have similar values and family lives. He lived with us for a while and even sang in our wedding, then ghosted both of us after we got married. We didn't hear from him for a year, but he's been back around lately. My husband has a big personality and dominates conversations, so friend is usually pretty quiet. Now he only seems to talk when it's just him and I alone. If I am bickering with my husband, friend usually takes my side and defends me and my opinions on things. I've learned a lot about him in the past few months and he becomes more attractive to me every time I see him.

Recently the three of us went to a concert at a bar. My husband was the driver that night, so friend and I kept buying each other drinks. Before I blacked out I very clearly remember friend holding my hand for a while during one of the sets. When I drove friend home the next day, he joked with me about how drunk I was (instead of shaming me the way my husband did). Then it was like he didn't want to get out of the car when we got to his place, and saying bye seemed to be kind of awkward for both of us. I almost kissed him in that moment. Friend makes excited about life again, and I haven't stopped thinking about him since that show.

I can't tell it's just an infatuation on my end because my marriage sucks, or if I'm developing feelings for friend. He and I have never talked about dating each other, and he doesn't typically go for women that look like me. I want to explore what might be there, but I also don't want to make waves between my husband and his oldest friend. My husband and I already went through a rough patch this year that almost led in us separating, and we are still struggling.

We are working on a house project and I am supposed to pick up friend while my husband is at work today. My anxiety about it is through the roof and idk where to go from here.

Well I'm not going to tell you that you do or don't have feelings for the friend. What I am going to tell you is that the relationship that you're in definitely skews your view because you are so unhappy, you picture yourself with somebody else because you want to be in a situation where you are happy. And I think you deserve to be happy. If you're not happy where you're at then I think that you should definitely change things especially if you don't see your husband changing.

Especially if you feel like you were blindsided and the person you're married to is not the person you thought you were getting married to.. I know several people that it's happened to and I'm just sorry that you're in a situation where you're married to somebody who makes you miserable. It's hard because I know at one point you did see so much good in this person, but to see it all disappear after you've been married and essentially the idea that now that you're in this more serious commitment that you can't go anywhere or can't leave. That's not true. You can totally leave if you're not happy.

If you have financial freedom I would consider looking into divorce in your state because certain states require you to be separated for so long before you can even get divorced. And certain states have laws that punish people who act out of their marriage and cheat.

And then maybe once you start getting that stuff straight you can think about dating. That doesn't mean that the friend can't be there for you and the way that friends are. But I would wait to pursue anything until you're out of your current relationship regardless of how unhappy you are.

I sincerely hope some part of this is helpful to you and like I said I'm just sorry you're going through that because it hurts to be trapped in a relationship with somebody who doesn't treat you like you deserve. I'm always here if you need to talk.

#anonymously tell me your secrets

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dionysusdarkdaughter · 7 months

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Starting Over

Life is hard. I'm sure that surprises no one and elicits an eye roll from some. I need to get things out to hopefully process and let go.

TW: mentions of Drugs, Abuse, Narcissism, Addiction

I've always done things my own way. I am weirdly different from my family. Not in a "not like other girls way", but as in I am emotional and all they can express comfortably is anger. I feel things deeply (just a nice way of saying I'm sensitive), cry a lot, and willingly take on the battle of my mental health. Feeling like a mismatched puzzle piece has made me really have no one to align with or fully connect with. Which then leads me to get into bad situations. I'm not blaming anyone for my actions, those are my choices of course I'm just trying to give a bit of context.

I have been with awful people who take advantage of me and my overlooking of red flags, I have been SA'd, fought addiction, and been through abusive relationships. Now it's over and living without the chaos is uncomfortable, sometimes almost unbearable. It's so quiet now, I don't have to worry about waking up to hearing dishes breaking, yelling, or bracing myself to see what kind of absolute mess I'll open the door to.

For the past three years I was dating a guy, we will call him Blue, and he was not a nice guy. At first Blue was amazing, it was a long distance relationship at first. We live in the same state but he lived in a city that was not near me. We met online and hooked up once before but then he disappeared for a bit only to come back with a sob story that I wanted to believe and ignored the first red flag. He said he ended up in a mental hospital after a drunken night and saying he wanted to end his life. Looking back, I don't fully believe that is what happened but I can't say for sure on what may have happened. At the time I didn't want to invalidate him or press him because that is a big thing to deal with. So I gave him a second chance. He began taking the hour and a half (maybe more) long bus ride to see me on his days off and he made me feel so special. I hadn't had successful relationships before and this effort meant the world to me. He was kind, helped with cleaning and watched movies with me. He played the part so well. Eventually he told me that he was getting kicked out of his place because he wasn't cleaning since he spent so much time with me and I agreed to let him stay. I think? When he came to live with me it happened so fast and I don't really remember what happened. But I couldn't just throw him out, I mean it was partly my fault right? Red flag number 2 also went ignored. He was okay at first but then he started having trouble at work, he had transferred to a location closer when he moved in and eventually he quit. He was unemployed for a while before getting another job. I think it was around this time when he started using meth again. He had told me before that he used to but was clean. It bothered me but I didn't know how to approach it. I told him I didn't like it and he kept his use to a minimum I think but it progressively got worse. Soon enough he stopped working and things got tight. I wasn't working during the time since this all started when the pandemic was in full swing and I was able to get benefits. we coasted off those for a while until we couldn't. I'm sorry if the timeline is messy, my memory of this relationship sucks and you will see why later.

We started fighting and he stopped contributing. Some of this is a blur but I think for a time I was getting monetary help from a family member in exchange for cleaning their home and letting her see my dog. But Blue stayed home and tried thinking of alternative ways for bringing in money. He liked electrical work and began acquiring speakers and stereo equipment to "fix" he was successful a couple of times but most of that stuff littered the apartment. He also sold some medication he was prescribed but again not much came from it. I began to start declining in my mental health and isolating, but I had struggled with depression and had gotten a diagnosis of PTSD so I thought it was just that but this was different. Blue was letting the mask slip. He would put down my feelings and basically tell me that it was all in my head and I was the problem. When he got real upset he would throw things at the wall, break my dishes, and yell. He would never let me walk away from him as he would follow me and just yell. He would put me down, call me a bitch, tell me to fuck off and probably other things I have blocked out. It would terrify me and each of these arguments made me think, "is this the time he hits me?"

Blue never hit me thankfully but I think if he had not been thrown out it would have eventually happen.

The one time I told him he was abusive he lost it even more and said some awful things without a second thought. He attacked my appearance and belittled me saying "That would be abusing you". Anytime Blue lost his temper and did this stuff he never apologized and I was too afraid to bring it up. It was like he saw nothing wrong with what he did. The apartment ended up a horrible mess. Blue would constantly make food and let whatever was left rot and rarely clean. I had a hard time getting out of bed and kept letting the depression win. Anytime I would try to clean it became overwhelming, or I would get so angry, or it would never last and would be somehow worse. I didn't understand how he could live like that and not see anything wrong with it since it disgusted me but I was declining. I felt so low and defeated in our relationship. When Blue wanted to sleep with me he would be extra nice and once he got what he wanted he would retreat back to the living room leaving me feeling used. He rarely slept in the bed since I kept stuffed animals on it and the dog sleeps with me so he claimed he couldn't get comfortable. We were more like roommates with "benefits" more than a couple.

Blue had his own personal issues but never got any help for it. He felt like he was fine and didn't need help. But the truth is, he just let his addiction drown out the pain. It got so bad that Blue would do things to get his fix. I don't feel comfortable going into detail but it is a low point for addicts. I didn't know how to help and maybe a part of me didn't want to. That might make me a bad person but all I wanted was for the abuse to end. I wanted him out of my life.

Once Blue even got his hands on my drug of choice. Years before I struggled with my own addiction to a certain powdery substance. I had been at least 5 years sober from it and he knew about that. Yes there were times when I may have let it slip that I was craving but I always tried to find a better way to deal with whatever was going on. Blue didn't force me or anything but he had it and even cut it up into nice fat lines and I couldn't resist anymore. I had taking on the bread winner role with no help from him and I hated my job. So with everything going on I decided to indulge. I don't have a normal reaction to that substance instead of gaining energy I zone out and stop thinking, everything becomes quiet. I know it sounds strange but it's why I became so addicted to it all those years ago. And it's why I slipped. I was in desperate need to make everything stop.

I haven't done it since but I felt stupid and awful for flushing so many years of being clean down the drain and the day after I was so sick.

The last bit of our relationship went from the worst to oddly good. He got sick and he is insufferable when he's sick. He is very much a hypochondriac and blows everything way out of proportion. I didn't like taking care of him anymore because he would never go to the doctor and I think the drugs were taking a toll on him. He began being distrustful of medical professionals. He also went down some conspiracy rabbit holes that I ignored. Blue got covid from someone he went to see for reasons and got very angry. Then he got even more angry because someone was going to give him money but something came up (not sure exactly it was hard to get the full story out of him), but he started destroying the apartment again. I didn't want him to break the last dishes we had so I asked him to not throw things and he screamed at me. Blue had that habit of taking his anger out on me even when I didn't cause it. He called me a bitch and told me to fuck off and that I should die or something to that affect. Every time I would leave and go into the bedroom he would open the door to yell at me and then leave. I would close it and he would open it to yell some more. At this point I recognized he would say things to bait me into arguing with him and I didn't engage which also pissed him off. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Blue took a hammer and hit the wall which scared me and I went to see what happened. I was terrified if I said the wrong thing he'd grab it and hit me. That fear I felt was real and sent me into a panic attack. Luckily Blue was done with me and I retreated to my room. My dog was under the bed terrified to come out and I had to take some medication to come down but I knew that I couldn't let this go on any longer. I am a spiritual person and in that moment the only thing I could do was pray to the Goddess Lilith. Call it stupid or whatever but she had been reaching out and I was too blinded to understand. I begged her for help no matter what had to happen and I sobbed, fully letting out the pain. In a matter of weeks my prayers were answered. It was after this argument and a period of me avoiding him that Blue decided to act nice to me.

My mother called me and all the things I had been hiding were finally let out. She said she would help me get him out. So the week before Christmas she and some male family members came to my rescue and told him to get out and never come back except for an agreed upon day to get whatever was his. He was upset and slowly gathered what he could. he caused everyone to get upset with his disrespectful attitude. I just stood in the corner and tried to keep from having a panic attack. I truly didn't know what he would do and didn't want him to start yelling. After he left my mom helped me start the clean up process. She came over several times to help and it looks the way it should now. I packed up as much of his stuff as I could find and even gave him some food I know he liked, it wasn't much and I didn't have to be as generous but I felt kinda bad, I think my mind was so tangled at the time. I waited for the day he was to get his stuff.

I don't know how much detail I can go into about this day since it was traumatic and I am still sensitive to it but I will give highlights.

Blue and 3 other people arrived a couple hours earlier than agreed on catching me off guard. They continuously knocked loudly on my door saying I needed to let them in but we had agreed on having someone from my family here for my well-being and that was why we agreed on a specific time. I called my mom panicking telling her that Blue was here with other people and I didn't want to open the door. Luckily my step-dad jumped in the car and sped over. My mom told me to call 911 and get officers out here just in case so I did. Blue's friends would not stop even after I told them they needed to wait until my step dad got here. I was caught off guard and went into panicking because I woke up minutes before they got there with broken sleep and I wasn't fully awake so I got scared.

When my step dad arrived I felt better but was not relieved fully since I knew Blue would show up early to get in and probably bully me I just didn't expect him to be so early. He also knew I don't sleep well and I don't like getting up early which is what he tried to use to his advantage. Blue tried to accuse me of hiding a stupid chair he had worked on but I think my step dad had thrown it away when we were cleaning. I just let Blue talk and stayed out of the way. The officer who came just acted as a mediator and eventually they all left. I know some detail is missing but for my own sanity this is all I can stand to recount about that day.

Finally Blue was out of my life for good and I could move on. It has been 2 months since then and there have been ups and downs. As hard as it may seem there have been days where I miss the good Blue. I miss the way he made me laugh, the very few compliments he gave me, the feeling of his arms around me when I asked for a hug. Yes I did have to ask for physical and non sexual contact because he would never give it otherwise. He only did it when he wanted something. I also get mad at him. Hell the day after he got his stuff I wished I would have thrown it out and set it on fire: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iiTxcuMkqk4

That rage she feels that comes from giving your life to someone, putting yourself last, and being what they want or need only for them to turn around and screw you over, that's how I felt. I let this piece of shit, pathetic excuse of a man ruin me for three years. It may not seem long to you but for me, it felt like forever and it was like it would never get better. I lost what little sense of self I had, I lost all the money I was making because I was providing for us, I dropped out of cosmetology school because I lost motivation from dealing with him. Blue gaslit me, put me down, abused me, twisted narratives to make me the bad guy when he talked to his friends even when I was right there. Then would act all nice and make so many promises and would even clean just to make me believe he would change. I know I wasn't my best when I was with him and I made mistakes but I did everything I could to make Blue feel loved, accepted, appreciated, and safe. But I wasn't worth the effort to him. Did he love me? Maybe but only in the limited way someone like that can love. He also treated me like a meal ticket.

Looking back and knowing what I know now, Blue is a narcissist. I'm not being hyperbolic, I truly believe he is a narcissist. Looking at how narcissists act and think, it fits Blue, it's scary accurate. But I can only hope he gets help and turns his life around but I doubt he will. In truth I am worried about one day getting the news that he is no longer on this Earth. I know I shouldn't care at all what happens to him but when I love someone, I love them fiercely with all my heart and yes I did love Blue. I loved the good Blue but he died a long time ago or maybe he wasn't real but I like to think he was and I could catch glimpses of him in those nice fleeting moments. Blue is no good and I would never take him back, I know that but I hope he gets help.

Now I have to learn to navigate life. I'm alone for the first time in my life and for the most part it's okay. Sometimes its's uncomfortable and it hurts but I know I need to be alone to heal. Starting over is hard. But I know I'll be okay. I just had to get this out.

#tw abuse #emotional abuse #addiction #tw drugs #starting over #narcissistic abuse #narcissism #vent post #real life

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the-music-keeper · 1 year

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Sorry for the delay.

I spent most of my time last week searching for a new job, since today is Memorial Day and I don't have class. Did I find one? No, and apparently I'm not crazy for thinking that the job market isn't as good as has been touted in headlines -- the offerings either suck or want a unicorn. But I did find a REALLY exciting lead last night and thus far the poster has been super responsive. I've sent her my materials, and I'm praying, folks, oh, I'm praying.

Classical History

1. Rice reading. (Apparently 18th-century Paris was the very definition of a "small world.")

2. Weiss and Taruskin reading. (Excerpts from Mozart's letters!)

3. Mongrédien reading. (I think this is the only Paris reading by someone who's actually French assigned for this class meeting.)

Final Paper

4. Search the finding aids for helpful collections. (I've perused the Rockefeller Library but I really need to check out the Library of Congress holdings, too. I might have an excuse to use that library card of mine.)

5. Find five sources from the databases. (I found five sources!)

Doctoral Applications

I'm going to do this school by school because I think it will be helpful. This week I'm going to do Indiana University.

6. Look at potential advisors' recent research from the last five years. (At Indiana, I'm looking at the work of Dr. Javier León.)

7. Look at dissertations potential advisors have supervised within the last five to ten years. (Dr. León supervised a few relevant theses, had an empty stretch during which he didn't seem to do a lot of supervising, and supervised a dissertation that was released three years ago. I wonder if he only takes on one student at a time.)

8. Find curriculum information. (Had to check the catalog for specifics.)

9. Get contact info. (So I can contact everyone after I finish my spreadsheet and ask to set up a Zoom call.)

Article Project

10. Check out articles in the journal my advisor suggested to see how paper compares to past publications on Schumann works. (I need to check how long the editor in chief has been in that position so I know how far back to look.)

11. Look at submission guidelines. (This is going to be an interesting process.)

Thesis Planning

12. Find five papers or dissertations on tango in film. (I really need to start reading.)

13. Put in orders for five more books. (There are certainly more than the ones I have.)

Adulting

14. Laundry. (All done!)

15. Get my clothes out of my drawers and my stuff out of my room. (Good job, me!)

16. Keep job hunting. (Hopefully without panicking.)

Wish me luck! I'm afraid my "being-a-human" muscles were quite underutilized last week, so it's going to take a bit for me to get off my butt, I think.

#amy rambles #amy's to do list #classical history #doctoral applications #article planning #thesis planning #adulting #catholic university of america #cua #musicology #music major #my brain says it wants to keep being a netflix gremlin #we'll see if i win that fight

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hello-delicious-tea · 2 years

Text

The Wall

He carved on a stone stela all of his toils, and built the wall of Uruk-Haven, the wall of the sacred Eanna Temple, the holy sanctuary. Look at its wall which gleams like copper(?), inspect its inner wall, the likes of which no one can equal! Take hold of the threshold stone--it dates from ancient times! Go close to the Eanna Temple, the residence of Ishtar, such as no later king or man ever equaled! Go up on the wall of Uruk and walk around, examine its foundation, inspect its brickwork thoroughly. Is not (even the core of) the brick structure made of kiln-fired brick, and did not the Seven Sages themselves lay out its plans?

The Epic of Gilgamesh, trans. Stephen Mitchell

So, this wall. This wall is the crowning achievement of Gilgamesh's reign. It's obviously good because it protects the city and the temple, but if you look at what the text focuses on, it's not the impregnability of the wall, but the skill, craftsmanship, care, and even community that go into it. It gleams, and every detail of it is meticulously planned and executed.

In the beginning of the story, Gilgamesh has just started working on the wall, but he's kind of fucking it up. I'm going to use the Mason retelling because it's right next to me:

Sometimes he pushed his people half to death With work rebuilding Uruk’s walls, And then without an explanation let The walls go unattended and decay, And left his people dreaming of the past And longing for a change. They had grown tired of his contradictions And his callous ways.

A wall of this caliber requires focus, direction, planning, consistency. Good leadership requires the same.* Gilgamesh, though he is meant to be the best king ever and may ("left his people dreaming of the past" suggests he used to be good at his job, or, alternatively, that the previous king was pretty rad), is currently really falling down on the job. TBH, it sounds like he's depressed to me: sudden bursts of energy where he tries to get on top of things followed by getting overwhelmed and letting it all fall apart again.

And why is he depressed? Because he is impossibly, terribly lonely. Being 2/3 god and 1/3 human (again, weird) means there is nobody with whom you can have a meeting of the minds. Gilgamesh is both terribly drawn to that meeting and terrified of it; he dreams a number of somewhat ominous dreams of being overthrown, mastered, by a stranger. His mom is like, OH THANK GOD THIS IS YOUR SOULMATE SHOWING UP, MAYBE THEN YOU WILL STOP THE BULLSHIT** Gilgamesh is not convinced, but lo, Enkidu shows up and promptly tells him to stop his bullshit, they fight, they realize they are perfectly matched, they fall into each other's arms <3 <3 <3 and begin the process of becoming human together. I know this sounds like a tangent but it is not.

We then basically forget about the wall till the end of the cycle, when Gilgamesh returns home from his attempt to SPOILERS resurrect Enkidu END SPOILERS, and he is, again, SUPER DEPRESSED. But he gets home, and he meets this old man who tells him, you know what? We all lose our soulmates, the loves of our lives, and we go on. It sucks but you're not special. And then he sees the wall, and it's like, oh. Maybe this is what's worth living for when you've lost everything else: what humans can accomplish together, beauty and craft and strength and community, that's what makes it all worth while.

And that's how you know he finally shares the human condition: every man is his equal, and he knows as a bone-deep truth that glory can only come from community, not from asserting power over others.****

*Also not fucking every young woman on her wedding night, that is also not good leadership and leads to dissatisfaction among the citizens.

**Wandering around the city at night beating up any random young man you see to try and find someone who can equal you, also not great leadership, also maybe not very bright***

***That said, both of these (fucking and fighting) are attempts to find someone who can match him and just, um, let's be clear that he stops both of these things the moment he meets Enkidu

****There is a lot, and I mean a lot, of yelling at people before he gets that, and he does yell at the old man too initially, but the old man yells back - just like Enkidu did <3 (but there is no epic fight here)

#gilgamesh #epic of gilgamesh #classics #retellings #sorry if it sucks a bit I've been working on this for three nights after BabyTea goes to bed #here's that Gilgamesh content no one was really asking for #you get it anyway

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buckyhoney-library · 3 years

Text

worst behavior, b.b

A/N: Surprise, i released it earlier than expected! I just- i hope you enjoy, bc this is probably the filthiest thing i've written- i also changed the plot a little bit!

Request: hiiii could i request a one-shot where professor!bucky sees you eyeing his metal arm bc he pushed his sleeves up one hot day and proceeds to keep you after class to do smth abt it? you can make it as kinky as you like, maybe some degrading and breeding if you’re comfortable w that! ugh i’m a whore for professor!bucky

reblogs & likes are greatly appreciated & highly encouraged

Warnings: 18+, professor!bucky, dom!bucky, age gap (f early 20's), degrading kink, public masturbation, oral (m&f), fingering, spanking, light choking, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, sorry for any missed typos!

Word Count: 4.6k, you already know i get carried away with bucky

You shuffle through the hallways of the historic building. The walls are decorated with paintings and engravings. Students walking in various directions making the hallway crowded and hard to get through. Every now and then, students would stop to talk to friends or professors. This halts the moving traffic, causing jams and irritated groans from other students. The satisfaction sets in when you glance down at the time and notice it’s nine fifty-seven. In three minutes, you’ll be officially late to class.

The other classes you take bore you- making it hard to stay focused. They are the generic first-year classes that everybody dreads. You always end up doodling or drifting in and out of sleep throughout the period- but this class? This is the only class that excites you.

World History with Professor Barnes.

You wake up extra early in the morning to get ready for his class. You put a little more effort into your appearance than the other classes. The thought of the professors and students seeing you in sweats and hoodie didn’t bother you. Professor Barnes’s class on the other hand- you made sure you looked put together. His lecture has you wanting to wear the shortest sundresses with little to nothing underneath them.

Being late to Professor Barnes’s class is frowned upon and requires immediate attention when it becomes excessive. The immediate attention was an after-hours meeting with Professor Barnes to discuss what could possibly be more important than his lecture.

The first time you showed up late, happened to be the first day of class. When you rushed into the lecture hall, your heart nearly stopped by the man in front of you. Brunette hair’s swept back, piercing blue eyes, and a button-up that looked a size too small- showing off his bulging biceps. The fitted navy-blue button-up was rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone. His biceps on full display through the material- showing off the vibranium. You swallowed hard as he began to scold you in front of the entire hall.

“I do not tolerate tardiness. Enough tardies require a private meeting after hours.” His light blue eyes never broke contact with yours, darkening with lust the longer he looks at you- taking you all in.

It was almost as if he was telling you to be late. There is a faint heartbeat between your legs, you cross them in fear he could hear the throbbing from where he stands. You began to daydream about the warm metal wrapped around your throat, while his other fingers were buried inside you. Or the prints that would be left against the flesh of your ass. You nod slowly with the most innocent eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Professor Barnes. I had gotten lost. It will never happen again.” You say innocently, playing up the role- even going as far as pouting your lips.

Bucky’s cock twitched at the sight of your puffed-out lips. Begging to be made an example out of you in front of the class. You smile back at him, patiently waiting to be excused to your seat.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again, Ms?”

“Y/L/N.” You purr.

“You may find a seat Ms. Y/L/N.”

He looks are you properly, eyeing you up and down. His eyes fixated on your hips, swaying side to side as you walk up the steps, your skirt flapping up behind you- teasing him. Bucky knew you were going to be trouble this semester- and trouble is exactly what you had been for the last month.

You did everything in your power to get him to keep you after class. Bucky is getting more and more fed up with you- acting so innocent. He knew damn well that you want nothing more than to have your pretty little mouth stuffed with his cock- gagging and gasping for breath.

He hates that you are pretending like you had no idea the amount of frustration you are causing him. The amount of self-control Bucky exhibits is astounding. Especially on the days, you come in wearing close to nothing- claiming it was ‘just too hot outside’ or when you sit in the front row with a lollipop in your mouth, exaggerating the moans as you suck the red hard candy.

You straighten out the wrinkles out of the floral baby blue sundress, before turning the knob on the door.

“Ms. Y/L/N. You’re late- again.” Professor Barnes states sternly, not bothering to look at you.

Bucky caught a glimpse out of the side of his eye- you were wearing his favorite dress and knew he couldn’t look at you in the eye without taking you right there.

This is Bucky’s favorite dress. He loves the way it holds your breasts higher and how it hangs over the curve of your ass so nicely.

How much prettier would the dress look across his lap.

Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you when you walk and the dress flows with every step- sometimes a little too much. This grants him a sneak peek of your favorite lacey white panties- or sometimes the lack thereof. He stiffens at the sight of the fabric covering your pretty little cunt, taunting him.

For the past month, all Bucky could think about is that cunt. How tight you’d be around him- hearing you whimper and whine when he finally enters you, stretching you out to fit perfectly. He wonders if you could take him all at once or if he needs to warm you up with his fingers- but the thing he thought about the most: how sweet you must taste. The question alone could get him off.

How desperately he wants a taste of you.

“Mr. Barnes I am sorry-“ You begin to play into your act before he cut you off,

“Find your seat.” He still not bothering to look at you.

Disappointment floods your face from the lack of attention. In an effort for payback, you sit in the first row already pouting. He began the lecture by discussing the homework he had assigned the night before. You reach into your bag, pulling out the folder.

Expecting you to be in your usual spot in the back of the lecture hall, Bucky clenches his jaw at the sight of you sitting with your legs crossed shut in the front row, with your elbows on the small desk and hands cupping your face in boredom. His cock began to stir. Your breasts press together against the thin fabric- that is working extra hard to keep your breasts from being on display for everyone.

You see the frustration written on his face the moment he finally looks at you. You smirk at the successful payback.

The class goes on, but the material bores you. You begin to stare at Professor Barnes. You could hear the small adjustments from the vibranium as he moves about the lecture hall. Your breath hitches when he rolls his sleeves up. His biceps bulging against the fabric, a faint throbbing begins between your legs. You bite the inside of your cheek holding back a whimper. You squirm in your seat, uncrossing your legs to press them together to relieve some pressure.

The sinful thought begins to overtake your mind, only making the throbbing worse by the added arousal pooling against the lace. Checking each side of you, you look to see if there are any other students close enough to you that were about to witness this risky act. There are students staggered behind you, but only a couple dare to sit in the first rows. They are intently listening to their professor- who has his attention on the chalkboard.

You swallow a lump, attempting to steady your breathing. You slip your hand below the desk, resting it on your upper thigh. With one more quick scan of the room, you slip your hand underneath your dress.

You inhale sharply at the contact with your aching cunt. The slow circles you draw over your lacey panties release a wave of pleasure. Your lips part and your eyes flutter. The idea of someone catching you- the idea of him catching you? Made the arousal seep through the material getting on your fingers. You close your eyes dreaming about how Bucky’s fingers would dip between your folds, collecting the arousal and forcing you to taste yourself. You could imagine the pornographic scene play out in your mind, the heavy panting and degrading remarks- your fingers slip inside the thin fragile material. The satisfaction of making direct contact with the bundle of nerves makes it almost impossible to bit back any moans. Instead, you let out silent breaths.

Your imagination continues with his fingers going back between the folds, teasing the entrance- making you whine. Bucky’s other hand groping your breasts harshly. The focus is solely on the clit that throws you hurtling toward your orgasm. You brace yourself for the pleasurable release.

Bucky turns around to flip the page of the textbook when he sees it- sees your legs parted with your middle and ring finger rubbing circles over your clit. He holds his breath, not believing the whore in front of him. Your pants becoming faster and heavier. The pleasure begins to boil over, sending you over the edge. You remove your fingers covering your mouth to muffle the whimpers.

When you come down enough to open your eyes, your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach. Red flushing your cheeks and your chest tightens- you have been caught. His jaw hung open in disbelief at what he just witnessed. This is the final straw, touching yourself in class? Cumming in class- in front of him. There is no hiding the growing bulge in his pants.

Bucky slams shut the textbook, The other students sit in confusion at the sudden outburst from their Professor.

“Make sure you read the rest of the chapter. Class dismissed.” He almost growls.

Bucky takes cover at his desk, covering any evidence of an erection. He pulls a random stack of papers to distract himself from the bulge in his pants.

You hurry to pack away your things- you know that you are in a world of trouble and wish to leave the room as fast as possible.

You pull the bag over your shoulder and head straight for the door, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Ms. Y/L/N. Stay.” His voice booming in the near-empty room.

You freeze in your tracks, holding your breath. You turn around to face the furious man seated behind the desk. The one man that now held all the power to expel you. You feel small and weak the closer you get to his desk. He waits till the last student leaves the room.

“Yes, Professor Barnes?” Anxiety begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

“We need to discuss your behavior. Follow me.” The demand making you shiver.

Your legs wobble as you follow him to the room just off the lecture hall. It is his office. It is bigger than you have imagined it. The smell of oak and cigars filling your lungs the moment you enter. His dark mahogany desk is the focal point of the room. The walls are decorated with artwork he had collected over the years. The dark brown curtains are pulled shut. The only light source being the two standing lamps on reside on each side of his bookshelf. Knick-knacks covering the surfaces of the shelves and desk.

“Sit.” His voice is stern laced with lust.

The restricting fabric of the briefs and pants makes the bulge painful. You sit in the chair in front of his desk with your ankles crossed and hands in your lap.

“First, you’re late to my class.” He is stalks around you- like your prey. His arms crossed tightly against his chest.

“Then, you wear this provocative dress.” Bucky’s fingers glide up your arm, grazing over the thin strap on your shoulder. His touch burning your skin.

“Then, you proceed to touch yourself in the middle of my lecture- cumming all over yourself like a disgusting little whore.” His words starting up the throbbing.

Bucky leans against the edge of the desk and your eyes are fixated on your lap- not daring to make eye contact.

“I have every right to expel you,” You inhale preparing yourself.

“-but I’m not going to.” Your eyes shoot up meeting his.

They’re filled to the brim with lust and desire. You gain a boost of confidence soars through you with the knowledge that you aren’t getting expelled.

He tilts your chin up to him, getting a better look at you. Using your chin to turn your face to each side- examining the mouth that will soon be full of him.

Bucky runs his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling at it- parting your lips. You push your head forward, taking his thumb in your mouth- closing your lips around him. You hum, innocently locking eyes with him.

You had no idea what you just started.

A devilish grin tugs on the corners of his mouth at the sight of you taking his thumb. You hallow your cheeks, sucking gently.

“What a good little slut.” He purrs. Bucky removes his thumb and stands.

“But, you’re not getting off that easily. Come.”

You stand to your feet moving to stand in front of him. The throbbing increases between your thighs and the arousal seeping through your panties. Bucky looks down at you touching your shoulder and neck. He finally rests his hand on your cheek, rubbing the flesh gently. You swallow, tensing and untensing your jaw. Bucky sense your nerves,

“It’s okay, princess- you’ll only be a little sore.” Your heart skips a beat.

Your panties are now drenched in your wetness and you swear he could hear the throbbing. You dreamt for this day. He pulls your lips to his. Finally meeting yours. It is slow and passionate; you didn’t know if you could touch him- but he has his hands holding the sides of your face.

“On your knees.” His voice is low and dark.

You drop to your knees. You’re now eye to eye with his bulge. The hardened cock makes your mouth water. You lick your lips, looking at him before you reach for his belt. He nods granting you permission. The belt is undone along with the button of his dress pants. Your slow movements have Bucky in a trance. His eyes don’t leave you.

You tug the pants down, his length still trapped behind the black briefs. You feel his length and hear a low groan escapes his mouth. You place small pecks on top of the clothed member. You are salivating with every kiss, growing more eager. The underwear is pulled down, freeing the aggravated cock. It’s red and looks like it is going to burst within seconds. The girth and length surprises you and you begin to wonder if you can even fit him inside you- let alone your mouth. Nerves build within you and hesitantly look up at Professor Bucky.

“I don’t know if it will fit,” Your voice is quiet, he chuckles and lifts your chin once more.

“Make it fit.” His voice is just above a whisper, but dark and stern.

At that moment you realize that this wasn’t going to be a quick punishment. He is going to make you wish you never wore short dresses, late to his class, or cum in front of him. Bucky licks his lips in awe of how beautiful you looked kneeling in front of him. All the fantasies are about to come true.

You take his length in your small hands; you use both hands to warm him up- slowly building him up. The strokes begin slow and sloppy. Your thumb going over his tip. It’s angry and swollen, it’s begging to be drained. You rub small circles around it- mimicking your movements from earlier. Bucky’s breathing becomes slow pants. The pleasure building with each stroke.

You mentally prepare yourself, collecting all the saliva you could to the front of your mouth. You flicker your eyes up, the grin that grows on his face as you close your lips around his tip encourages you. His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping the strands at the root.

“Yes, take my cock in your mouth you filthy slut.” You hum around him.

He begins to slowly push your head closer to his pelvis, forcing you to take more of him. You were only halfway down his shaft when you gripped his thighs for support. Your ankles are crossed behind you and you are leaning back sitting on your feet.

Bucky didn’t care about staying silent. His low grunts and heavy pants left his lips as he grips your hair. The pure bliss he is experiencing is unlike anyone he’s had before. Based on your performance, he knew that you have had experience before. The thought of other men in your mouth drove him insane. His grip on your hair guides your mouth up and down his cock. He became more aggressive with his grip, quickening his pace.

“I just know you’ve been dreaming about my cock filling your mouth, hm? You’re such a stupid slut- wanting to suck your professor’s cock,” He moans.

You’re gagging on his length, trying your hardest to keep from pulling off of him. You hallow your cheeks adding extra pleasure and using one hand to pump the length while he guides your head. The longer you’re taking him in your mouth the less air you’re getting, the veins in your neck become prominent. You dig your nails into his thigh. Bucky hisses at the feeling of your nails sinking into his skin.

“That’s right, princess. You feel so good around my cock,” He purrs watching the tears forming from in the corners of your eyes.

You can’t take anymore without feeling like you were going to choke. Bucky feels the resistance of you attempting to pull off of him. He pushes your head fully down his length, causing a pornographic moan to leave his lips. Bucky yanks the roots of your hair, ripping you off his length. You gasp for air and cough at the sudden ability to breathe. Saliva coats your lips and his thighs.

“You better finish what you started.” Bucky hisses,

You nod wiping your mouth. This time around, he has precum oozing from his tip. You gather it with your thumb and coat the rest of his length, using it as lubrication. You take him once more, this time using both hands and your mouth. The combo is enough to send Bucky into orbit, but when you start sucking his tip and swirling your tongue around it- he knew it would be a matter of seconds before he would release his load.

“You taste so good, Professor.” You hum against his tip, your movements become faster- not bothering with a slow build.

Bucky grips the edge of the desk, you hear the vibranium cracking through the wood. The sound only eggs you on. The sounds of your slurping and moans, cause Bucky to twitch inside your mouth- signaling he is gonna cum at any moment.

Within seconds your mouth is filled with strings of cum. Bucky’s hips buck as your mouth continues to suck him off. The taste of him has become addicting, you want every last drop of him. You pull off of him, wiping up the spilled cum on your chin. Sucking it off of your finger.

“Shit, princess. You did so well finishing every drop.” He pulls you up from your knees.

“-but that doesn’t mean you’re done. You still need to be punished for your behavior in class. Do you understand?” You nod.

Bucky walks behind his desk. You follow, nervous about what your punishment will be.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Y/N. Bend over.” You do as you say.

Your breast smush against the dark wood, your eyes fixated on the photographs of him with family and friends. You smirk to yourself and look back at him. Bucky’s fingers trail up the backs of your thighs. He lifts the pretty blue sundress, finally seeing that perfect ass up close. Bucky’s cock throbs again when he sees that the underwear you’re wearing the cheeky white lace. So innocent, he thought. Bucky runs his palm over the meaty flesh, gripping and jiggling it. He moans at its effortless movement.

“Fuck!” You yelp, his palm makes contact with your ass cheek.

“I told you, princess. You need to be punished. Count them.” Another rough smack.

“Two.” The tears returning to your eyes, but the pleasure overpowers the pain.

You arch your back, wiggling your ass higher in the air, this time, he is able to get a sneak peek of the covered cunt that lived in his mind.

“Three,” This time, your eyes roll back and you’re seeing stars.

Bucky takes notice of just how soaked you are. He pulls the lace with his metal fingers, tearing through them in an effortless tug. The strings of arousal follow the fabric as it is thrown to the ground.

“Oh? You like getting punished? You soaked through your panties. You really are a fucking whore.” He runs his middle finger down your center, your body twitches once he reaches your swollen and needy clit. Bucky kneels, coming face to face with the glistening beauty. His dream is coming to a reality, he is finally going to taste you.

His tongue dips between your folds, causing you to gasp at the unexpected pleasure. Your ass is still in the air and his hands are gripping your inner thigh, pulling them apart, allowing more access to your sopping cunt.

“Just like I imagined it, so fucking sweet.” He is breathless, the taste of you becomes his new favorite flavor.

Bucky’s tongue licks up the access arousal and his thumb rubs small circles around your clit, making you whine against his desk. His mouth begins to place open mouth kisses against you, his tongue dipping inside you. You need something to grip and release the pent-up pleasure but result to releasing through you moans and whines. It is music to Bucky’s ears.

He pulls away from your dripping cunt, kicking your legs open, spreading them- giving him the best access he could get. His mouth returns to you. But this time giving full attention to your clit.

“I’m too big for your hole, princes. I have to stretch you out.” You whine, as his middle and ring finger slide inside you.

You’re a whimpering mess on his desk as his mouth and fingers switched places. His fingers stretching you out and his mouth on your clit. Bucky moans into you at the feeling of your pussy pulsating against his fingers. You are in pure bliss as he pumps his fingers, occasionally curling- hitting the spongey flesh of your g-spot. He swirls his tongue around your clit, sucking on it and releasing it with a pop. You feel yourself hurdling towards your orgasm. The pulsating becomes quicker, and the moans are now endless streams. Bucky knew you’re close to cumming around his fingers, but you had already came today. He removes his fingers and mouth in one swoop, leaving you breathless and irritated.

“You already came today; only well-behaved whores get to cum.”

You stare back at him in anger. Your cheeks are flushed red and you’re panting like you just ran a marathon. He takes amusement at the sight of you looking like a mess.

“Professor, please! I’ve been a good girl!” You whine, wiggling your ass backwards.

“I’ll think about it. It depends on how well you take this cock, princess.” You nod your head, bracing yourself.

Bucky pumps himself a few times before he slides his tip against your cunt. You dreamed of the moment you would feel him inside you. Him sliding into you and filling you up. The need and desire overtaking you and bucking your hips into his cock.

“I said to be good.” A more aggressive smack lands on your ass, this time he used the vibranium. You yelp in pain, knowing there is going to be a handprint on your ass. Branding you.

You gasp at the sudden fullness.

“I was going to be gentle, since you are not used to a cock as big as me, but since you want to be an inpatient slut- now I’m not going too.” Bucky rams his cock into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size.

He grunts at the sound of your whines and whimpers. He grips your hips using it to increase his speed. The purple and red marks form, where his fingers dig into you. Bucky groans at how tight you feel around him. The resistance from your walls getting him closer and closer.

Bucky continues at his pace while, but this time gripping the back of your neck. He tugs you back, lifting you. Your hands palm down on the desk, using it as stability. One of his hands pins your hands behind your back. Bucky pulls you back, flushing your bodies together. His fingers wrap around your neck. Your head falls back against his shoulder moaning at the sensation of his fingers around your throat. Bucky’s rhythm doesn’t slow down now that you’re standing. Your legs are still wide allowing him to go deep and hard.

“You’re such a dirty fucking slut, you know that?” You couldn’t even think.

You have entered another world. Your hands are still pinned behind you and your eyes are rolling back from the feeling of his other. All you could do is moan and sink into his cock.

“Fucking yourself in front of the class and cumming all over yourself- you fucking loved the idea of getting caught huh? I bet you would love someone to walk through that door and catch me fucking your sweet cunt.”

His words only push you further into nirvana. Your legs begin to feel weak, and the responsibility of standing is becoming too much. Bucky notices the sudden inability to stand.

“You gonna cum, princess?” You are barely able to function. You moan in response and he thrusts quicken- if that is even possible.

“Cum, princess. Cum around my cock,”

You see stars as a wave of pleasure washes overtakes you and you feel pure ecstasy. Your cunt contracts around his cock, sending Bucky over the edge. His cock pulsating and shoot loads of cum inside you, filling you once more.

“Fuck!” He moans one last time.

He collapses on top of you. Your hands catching your bodies as you lay pressed against his desk once again. Bucky pulls himself out of you, leaking with cum. You whimper at the sudden loss of fullness.

Your legs felt weak and standing on your own seemed like an impossible task. You are trying to catch your breath. The high cooling off and you regain the ability to talk.

You push yourself up, feeling the cum run onto your inner thigh. Bucky grabs a handful of tissues, wiping away the cum. He helps you sit down on his chair. Your breathing finally slows and the adrenaline wears off. You begin to feel the aftermath of every mark and muscle. You groan as you try to move from the seat.

Bucky walks over to you handing you a bottle of water and switches places with you, so you are now on his lap.

“I told you would be a little sore,” He chuckles, placing a kiss on your temple.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #professor!bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes x female oc #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes imagine

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regalityandcoffee · 2 years

Text

Unwind (Wheeler Yuta x Reader) (18+)

Summary: College Au. A stressed-out Wheeler visits you late at night.

Warnings: ...(*sits in the corner*) I deadass- I don't even know. Oral (reader receiving), soft domme vibes, I hope.

Enjoy?????

♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡

You were just about to head to turn your light off for the night when you heard a knock on your door. A familiar knock. You didn't bother putting on any pants, the man at your door had seen you in just your underwear and a t-shirt more times than you could count.

You opened the door up for him, and let him in, quickly closing it behind him. You heard him panting as you locked the door. Did he run all the way here?

"I know it's really late,...but- can I crash here for tonight?"

"Sure." you turned, watching him wipe the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, his face flushed dark red. It was pretty late, past midnight, though occasionally you still heard walking and restless noise in the hall, it was a Friday night after all. Who was asleep before midnight on a Friday night?

"I'll be good, I promise."

"I know, " you said as he set his backpack onto the empty bed across the room. Good thing you lucked out and didn't have a roommate this year. Otherwise, this would be pretty hard to explain to...anyone.

You watched as he undressed, kicking off his sneakers and stripping off his sweats until he was left in just underwear. You flopped onto your bed, head against your pillows, still watching him. Immediately, you noticed the bandage on his knee, but you chose not to ask yet. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Yuta."

He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged, not looking at you. "I've just- been studying too long. Needed to get away, you know? Plus Daniel's got a girl over, I'm kind of doing him a favor." he shut off the lamp on your desk, the only light left in the room from the streetlights outside.

"I know. You've been working hard all week. Did you eat today?"

"Yeah," He crawled on top of you, and you laid in a familiar position; his arms around you and head against your chest while you rubbed his back, playing with his hair. "Sorry I haven't texted you, just been busy..." he mumbled, arms squeezing tighter around you.

"Its fine, did you drink water?"

"Had to, we had practice for almost three hours." He answered as you pressed a kiss a kiss against his forehead.

"Three hours, in that heat?" you frowned, you shifted a bit so your legs were intertwined better.

"Only for like, half of that," he yawned. "Scraped my knee doing midfield stuff, though, that sucked."

"Poor baby."

"Its nothing, just Coach Mox's orders. Then I crashed for like two hours-"

"Is that why you weren't in history?"

"Yeah, then I ate and took a shower and studied-"

"Then you ran here."

"Yeah."

"Get some sleep then, and I'll help you tomorrow, okay?" You promised, giving his chin a scratch through his soft beard before moving back to his hair. He hesitated a bit before mumbling "okay".

You laid in silence, listening to the hum of the A/C and the sound of his breathing. Feeling him shift occasionally against you, nothing out of the usual.

Until you felt something against your leg.

"Wheels..." You said gently.

"I'm sorry."

"You want me to help you?"

"No, no. It'll go away. Fuck-" his breath hitched, the embarrassment in his voice cut off as you moved your thigh against him. "Babe-"

"You've been good, Wheels, you've had a long week. If you want something, just ask," you assured him, feeling him sigh against your chest.

"I don't know what I want." He sighed, obviously frustrated.

"Do you want me to give you head? Or a hand job? Do you need to fuck me, baby?"

After a few moments, he nodded.

"Use your words."

"I need- I wanna fuck you." He made to get up, and you pulled him back down for a kiss. His lips parted for you, with ease. His warm hands rubbed up and down your sides, groaning as you led him. After a bit, his mouth left yours, trailing down, beard tickling your neck as he sucked at the sensitive skin. He pulled away just in time, you had almost let a whine escape from your lips.

You looked at him, his soft brown eyes catching yours. "What's the magic word?"

"Please?"

"There it is." You pulled away and laid back down, listening to the sound of the bed creaking, as he got up to kneel between your legs. A warm hand went to your hip, making to grab your panties. You pulled it away. "Not without protection, Wheelie, you know that."

"I know. I wanna please you first, I gotta..." You caught his drift, guiding his hand back to your hip and letting him pull your panties off.

"Are you sure? You don't have to worry-"

"Yes, I do. I want to, I promise." Wheeler murmured. A knot formed in your stomach as hands touched your thighs, his breath over you as you put your legs on his shoulders.

"Be careful about your neck-"

"Don't worry about me, just lay back."

You nodded, ruffling his hair before doing as asked. "Ready?"

"Ready," he murmured, laying a kiss against your thigh. He went to work, face between your legs, kissing and licking at you until he made his way to your clit, applying intense pressure with his tongue before wrapping his lips around your clit.A whimper escaped as your lips as your hips bucked against his mouth, hand moving back to gently tug at his short hair.

"Can you breathe-are you- oh fuck." You arched your back, hand moving to the back of his head, pushing him forward. He continued to suck and moan against you, holding your hips in place with one hand while the other one reached between his legs to rub himself through his underwear.

He left your quickly hardening clit, trailing down to kiss you again and tease your entrance with his tongue, then moving back, barely giving you room to catch your breath, barely able to keep your eyes open. You struggled to keep your thighs from clenching around his head as he brought you closer the edge You shut your eyes, your twitching clit giving in as you dripped against his tongue, falling back agaisnst the mattress as the pleasure made you dizzy. You felt his hand leave your hip.

Wheeler pulled away. You opened your eyes, watching as he got back up to kneel between your legs again. His beard looked damp as he wiped the around his mouth. He pulled his hand away, revealing a smile. "It was that good, huh? I'm getting better at it, right?"

You nodded as you tried to catch your breath. "You did good, baby. Really good."

"Cool." He got off the bed and got on the floor, reaching underneath to open your trunk. "Do- do you want to use the lube too?"

"Yeah, " you said as you watched him stand up, tugging down his briefs. He got back on the bed, where he was before, sitting the lube down by his hip. You sat up and took the condom from his hand. You looked down at his cock, now free from the confines of his underwear. "Can I touch you?"

"Yeah," He said quickly, nodding his head. A whine slipped from his lips as carassed his sack, then moved up to tease the head of his cock with your fingers, spreading the precum around the tip. "Babe-" you hushed him with a kiss, pressing your lips against his for just a moment.

"We gotta keep it down 'cause it's late, remember?"He nodded as you pulled away to tear open the condom, gently pulling it down on and over him. "Good boy." You took the lube and opened it, pouring a bit in your hand to rub the cold gel against yourself. You gave it back to him and laid back down, spreading your legs.

You gripped the sheets as he entered you, his dick stretching you open and sinking into your wet heat. One hand gripped your hip while the other rest by your head to steady himself. "Can you put your legs up, on my should- yeah, like that. Does it feel good?"

"Yes." You nodded, shifting your hips. He bit his lip as he began to move, slowly rocking into you. You met his rhythm, reaching a hand between your legs to rub and tease yourself as he moved in you. Trying to pace himself with his strokes, though you knew he was aching for more.

"Feels good, feels so fucking good," Wheeler grunted as his hands move to grip your legs as he began to deepen his strokes.

You tossed your head back and shut your against your pillows as you applied more pressure against yourself. Your breath hitched and you moaned, his own pace quickening in you, the sound of his skin against yours soon echoing softly in the room. You tossed your head back and shut your as you applied more pressure against yourself.

"I know, I know- you feel so fucking..." He whined, bucking into you as you clenched around him. His hands moved to either side of you, gripping your sheets. You moved your legs, hooking them around his waist, hips now raised off the bed. You moved your hands to his back, nails digging in as you felt yourself getting closer to your climax.

You cried out as you came around him, as he lost himself, his thrusting getting slower until he went stiff, panting your name above you. A moment passed before he kissed your forehead, pulling out.

"I fucking needed that." He rested on top of you after disposing if the condom, and you snuggled against eachother once more.

"I know." you rubbed his back, struggling to keep your eyes open as you looked at the ceiling.

"I love you, Y/N," Wheeler mumbled.

"Love you too, now get some rest, babe." you whispered. Soon he drifted off to sleep, content and calm in your arms, and you soon followed.

-fin-

#wheeler yuta #wheeler yuta imagine #wheeler yuta x reader #Wheeler Yuta smut #i got nothing to say for myself

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